Eden In A Box 2
by CSI Clue
Summary: Tony and Pepper stumble through the highs and lows of a relationship.
1. Chapter 1

Pepper hears footsteps coming up from the garage, and tries to hurry, but it's not a success; the soufflé is taking a while to blend, even with the top of the line mixer here. The steps are coming closer, and she bites her lip, because a giddy part of her suspects what's coming.

So to speak.

Tony pauses in the doorway of the kitchen, his gaze direct and solemn. "The ambassador of Sexsylvania demands a private audience with you."

"Is that so?" she murmurs, fighting a grin. "An audience?"

"For the good of our nations," he insists, coming in and pulling her into his arms. He smells faintly of motor oil, and although his fingers are clean, Pepper can still see a dark line under each of his nails.

"You're pretty direct for an ambassador. Are you *sure* this is a diplomatic mission?"

"Oh I believe in deep and intimate relations," Tony tells her, picking Pepper up easily and setting her ass on the low granite counter next to the mixer. She's in a pink oversized tee-shirt and dark leggings, barefoot, hair down.

Weekend comfortable.

She shoots a glance at the soufflé and gives a little mental shrug, then turns her attention to pulling Tony's t-shirt off over his head. "Hmmm, maybe I better see what you bring to the negotiating table, ambassador of Sexsylvania. We representatives of . . ." Pepper pauses.

"Sexico," Tony supplies helpfully, pushing her shirt up. "Sunny, lush and sensual Sexico."

Pepper laughs. "Sexico? Sexsylvania? Okay, what's the greenhouse—Sexily, or the United States of Sexica?"

"Sextralia, since I had you down under in there," Tony murmurs, "Great memory."

"That was just last weekend," Pepper points out, biting along his newly exposed neck and making him groan. Tony's fingers are reaching behind her, undoing her bra, one hook at a time.

"Okay, so it's a *young* memory, Madam Ambassador, but now it's time to negotiate new ones."

"How fickle your alliances," Pepper groans, since Tony's talented hands have shifted to the underside of her breasts, cupping them lightly, his warm thumbs rubbing her tightening nipples. "I should deny your visa."

"Fine, I'll just storm your Embassy, Snuggles. You can struggle, but you can't evade the burning issues of the Ambassador of Sexsylvania," Tony asserts, pressing wet kisses along her collarbone as he pulls her shirt off. Her bra is next, tossed lightly further along the counter.

Pepper wraps her legs around Tony's hips, aware that she's at the perfect level for this, and amused to see that he is too as she starts to undo his fly. "How long have you been planning this little coup?"

Before Tony can answer, the opening bars of "The Wild Blue Yonder" ring out, and both of them freeze.

"Shit!" Tony growls, shooting a quick look over his shoulder. "We have about twenty seconds---"

Pepper is already off the counter scooping up her clothes and slipping out the other door of the kitchen, moving quietly and quickly towards the dining room and the second stairway there. She tries not to laugh; it's the third time in a month that Rhodey has very nearly caught them, and she knows Tony is deeply regretting giving his friend the code to the house.

Deeply.

But he can hardly change it without having to explain, or give Rhodey the new code, so for the moment Jarvis alerting them via music is what they're relying on. Rhodey's tune is 'Wild Blue Yonder' and Hogan's is 'Happy Days are Here Again.'

Yes it's silly and risky and yet it's also . . . fun, Pepper smirks. She knows sooner or later both men are going to find out if they don't know already; Pepper suspects Hogan already does and approves.

Rhodey though, isn't around enough to pick up the clues, Pepper thinks, and then realizes she doesn't have quite . . . all . . . of her outfit.

Out in the kitchen, Tony is working on a magnificent bluff. He stands at the mixer, humming, with absolutely no clue as to what's in the bowl as Jim Rhodes strides in, looking peeved. "So what's with not answering my calls, Tony? Do I have cooties?"

"I dunno, do you?" Tony asks, blinking at him innocently. "Been chasing girls on the playground lately?"

Rhodey chooses to ignore this, mostly because there isn't an answer that doesn't make him sound like a pervert or a prude, so he glances over at the bowl. "What are you making, and where the hell is your shirt?"

"You're not wrangling an invitation to dinner and what's the matter, can't stand the sight of my ravishing self? A man's home is his castle; if I want to go shirtless, I do, simple as that," Tony shoots back loudly. He is trying to distract Rhodey because out of the corner of his eye he sees something that if found will definitely require an explanation.

Too late.

"Oh Tony---" Rhodey shakes his head sorrowfully and picks up the bra, holding it between two fingers. Tony tips his head and looks up at the ceiling.

"Oh damn, you caught me. Yep, I didn't know how to break it to you, but I guess this is it," he sighs, and puckers up, blowing his friend a kiss. "I've been experimenting with cross-dressing."

This makes Rhodey arch an eyebrow; he dangles the bra on one finger now and stares at Tony. "Really. Because this is a B cup, Stark, and from where I'm standing, you're *not* going to be running over anytime soon, even with that arc. Cut the BS."

"I've already got a closet-full of nice tailored skirts, although shaving my legs is a *bitch* let me tell you—"

"—Tony, no. You can't *do* this, okay? It used to be fine back in the day when you didn't have, you know, priorities, and obligations, and people you gave a damn about—"

"—oh give me a break, platypus. It's not mine, but it's not what you think—"

"—Oh I don't have to think; I have the evidence, and Christ, you're breaking her heart, you know. It's not like you could miss it, Tony, you have *any* idea how Pepper feels about you? About how she'd react at finding a strange bra in your damned *kitchen?*"

"Actually---"

"I thought you'd *changed,*" Rhodey charges on, in full lecture mode now. "I thought you'd grown *up,* man."

"Laying it on a little thick you know," Tony grumbles, flicking the mixer off. "I wasn't aware you were the boss of me."

"Yeah, well—" comes the grumble, "Clearly you aren't either."

"Oh now that's harsh," Tony shoots back with genuine anger, his voice low. "Especially since you're fondling my girlfriend's bra even as we speak."

Rhodey flinches a little; possibly because he may very well have been, unconsciously. A voice comes from behind both men, and they turn; Tony with a smirk, Rhodey with alarm. He moves to shove his hands behind his back, and flashes a bright, artificial smile at Pepper.

"Jim, it's good to see you," she tells him, bright-eyed with mischief just under the edge of her smirk. Tony can tell she's heard everything, and he's content to let her take the lead on this.

Tony has learned that letting Pepper take the lead is very, very, good at times. Therefore his smirk widens into a grin and he watches.

Rhodey freezes, aware that he should give her a hug in greeting, but with the bra still behind his back . . . Pepper comes to him and hugs him. He stiffens a little until she pulls back and smiles.

"Did you bring a present?" she asks sweetly, never letting her gaze off his face. Rhodey blushes, shifting his feet, shooting a panicked little look Tony's way. Tony simply smiles.

"Come on--" Pepper encourages him, holding out a palm, and reluctantly, *very* reluctantly, Rhodey brings out his hand from behind his back. The silky bra dangles on either side of his grip, a pale pink with lace along the straps.

All three of them look at it.

Pepper shoots a serene gaze at Tony. "I thought we *talked* about this habit of borrowing my clothes, Tony. If you really plan to keep dressing up we can get you your *own* things. We'll just charge them to my account and nobody else has to know."

Tony lifts his nose a little and coyly bats his eyes. "I just wanted to feel pretty today."

"Ah---" completely at a loss now, Rhodey blinks, backpedaling a tiny bit. "I don't think I really want to know--"

"Yes, that's fine, but you're a winter and I'm a fall," Pepper chides him softly. "Even Jim can see that."

"I see *nothing,*" he blurts. "Not a thing!"

"I thought you were a pilot; isn't eyesight sort of required for that?" Tony asks sweetly. "Not a big market for blind pilots, last I checked."

"I'm not blind; I'm deliberately choosing not to comment on your new . . . lifestyle," Rhodey snaps, and after spotting the matching smirks, he rolls his eyes. "Oh shit, you two are pulling my damned leg. Damn it, I should have expected this from *you,* Stark, but Pepper---" He chides through a twisted grin. "That's not nice, Ms Potts."

"But it *was* funny," she manages, before giggling a bit. "Think about it—there's no way Tony could cross-dress with a goatee."

"How little *you* know," he tells her with a knowing grin. "I happen to understand Jim actually likes his ladies with something extra--"

"Tony--" Rhodey scowls, ready to launch into yet another defense of the Spring Break That Will Live In Infamy when Pepper moves to the mixer and cocks the beaters, letting them drip for a moment before pulling them out to set in the sink. She deftly pours the mixture into the greased ramekin, her concentration on making sure it flows evenly. As she finishes, Pepper realizes the kitchen is quiet; both men are watching her, and she blushes.

"What?"

"You're . . . cooking," Rhodey observes uncertainly.

Tony, who has been playing with the bra up to this point, nods. "Cheese soufflé. I got to help, but I'm not licking the bowl."

"Salmonella: not a fun after dinner treat," Pepper agrees, carefully lifting the pan and setting it into the oven. She puts a glass dish of water on the rack under it and carefully closes the door only to face dawning comprehension in Jim Rhode's expression.

"Oh God. This is . . . it. The domestication of Anthony Stark. Snowflakes are falling in Hades now, right?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing," Tony complains as he holds the bra up to his own chest. Both Pepper and Rhodey stare at him, and he coughs, tucking the bra into his jeans pocket. "Seriously."

"It's too much to take in all at once," the other man complains, wandering out to the living room, slightly dazed. "I mean honestly, Pepper, of all people I've ever imagined you choosing—Tony wasn't actually on the *list!*

"Hey!" comes another protest, but Pepper is smirking, following Rhodey out to sit next to him on the sofa, tucking her feet under her. He definitely looks stunned.

"So who *was* on the list?" she asks, curiously.

Rhodey rolls his eyes. "Oh Brad Pitt or Ben Affleck maybe--"

"Yeah, well exactly *why* wasn't I on the list? Pepper's known me longer than anyone you could come up with," Tony asks, his tone more serious now as he sits on the other side of Rhodey, looking hurt.

"Because Pepper has common sense," Rhodey blurts. "She's not the typical vapid sex bunny you usually boff--" Turning to Pepper he coughed lightly. "You've got brains, and class, and the ability to tell left from right."

Pepper says nothing, her expression clear that she isn't sure whether to laugh or not. Tony scowls again. "That's all in the *past,* platypus. My little MIA sojourn de-bimboed me, among other things."

Rhodey considers this and nods, his expression both contrite and doubtful. "Yeah, but still—have you two really *thought* about this?"

"We had Jarvis plan it out," Pepper confesses.

Rhodey looks up towards the ceiling, eyes wide. "No shit?"

"We are shitless," Jarvis assures him.

Tony laughs, and even Pepper can't help giggling as they sit on either side of a stunned Rhodey, bookends to support him as he runs a hand over his face.

"How? . . . *when?*" he demands after a while, eyes bright, but mouth still twisted. Pepper tells him, moving over the facts while Tony fills in the details, and the easy tandem of their narrative shows more than anything else how synchronized they truly are at this point.

Jim Rhodes listens, and after a while, looks from one to the other, sighing. "Okay."

"Not quite the blessing we were going for, but we'll take it," Tony mumbles as he slouches on the end of the sofa.

Rhodey shoots him a sidelong look, dry and yet affectionate. "Tony, look at this from *my* perspective, okay? Pepper's been good to you, and for you for years, and you didn't exactly go out of your way to woo her."

"He wasn't supposed to; Tony Stark was my employer," Pepper interjects firmly. "And now . . . he's not."

"He's . . . not."

"Nope," Tony sighed. "Apparently when I was off spelunking with terrorists, the board restructured Pepper's contract so that she's technically employed by both of us. Therefore, I can't fire her without their approval, and they can't take her away from me without my say so."

"Gives me some latitude; allows me to tell a certain someone that he's not quite as omnipotent as he thinks he is," Pepper nodded sagely. "A system of checks and balances."

"The board and I have joint custody," Tony corrects with a wry grin. "Although given the security clearances and inside corporate information Pepper holds, I'd say she's got both of *us* by the fuzz."

Pepper's face scrunches a bit at this accurate, but crude assessment. Rhodey laughs, finally relaxing, glancing from one to the other. "Okay, so there's some equilibrium here. That's good. That's . . . workable."

"Workable," Tony repeats softly. "But not for public consumption at the moment."

"Yeah, I can understand that too," Rhodey nods. "At least, for now. Damn, this is . . . weird."

"Okay, I need you to stop that," Pepper insists, softly but seriously. "It's been difficult enough to keep things under wraps, and we talked long and hard about telling you, so please don't make me regret the decision, all right?"

"No, I'm *glad* you told me. And . . . yeah, I'm glad it's you," Rhodey smiles at her, direct and supportive. "If there's anyone in this world who can see Tony Stark for what he is and *still* love him . . ."

"Okay, I guess I deserved *that* one," Tony sighs. "but what about *me?* Don't *I* get any credit here? Being mature, accepting responsibility, putting the toilet seat down?"

"Jarvis puts the seat down by *remote,*" Pepper replies, dryly. "But you get points for programming it in."

Rhodey shakes his head, smirking. "Glad to see a relationship hasn't changed either of you by *too* much."

00oo00oo00

After a good dinner of soufflé, salad and Della Rosa wine, after Rhodey says his goodbyes and hugs both of them hard before heading out, Pepper does the dishes.

She likes to do dishes; it's an easy chore, especially in a house as automated at Tony's, and it doesn't take her long. Once the last one is loaded and she dries her hands, Pepper makes her way down to the mud room—or more accurately the sand room, since this *is* Malibu—and picks up the reed basket from the hook there.

Pepper fights a happy shiver, and heads out to the greenhouse.


	2. Chapter 2

The sunset lights the panels of glass, making it a jeweled castle, and as Pepper walks towards the structure, she feels a little like Dorothy approaching Oz. It's a beautiful creation, and although it's been up only three months, Pepper is still struck by the gracefulness of the design; the natural fit of the greenhouse into the little hollow of the hill. Tony took architecture classes as a matter of course for an engineer and clearly some of it stayed with him when he drew up the plans.

She objected to the name of Eden at first; it seemed pretentious and slightly sacrilegious, but Tony told her she could change it if she wanted.

"The word means 'paradise,' I'd like to hope it will be, for you," he added softly.

So they compromised on 'Paradiso' which is Italian and pretty, and Tony commissioned the carved wooden sign that now hangs over the doors of the greenhouse. Pepper steps inside, still thrilled to do it, looking around her laboratory/haven/workshop.

The basic shape of the building is a long rectangle of thigh-high brick with two wide room-sized alcoves midway down. One of the alcoves houses the control panel for all of Paradiso's systems. The touch screen rises from the floor and shows all the pertinent data in streaming mode, while a smaller, swivel keyboard allows for programming and links to several weather stations, Moon Meadow Nursery and anyplace else Pepper would like.

The other alcove has a reading nook, complete with comfortable brown wicker loveseats with thick cushions and low green wooden bookcases built into the hip high brick walls of the greenhouse. Pepper keeps the hard copies of her reference books, gardening manuals and flower catalogs here under the Tiffany glass chandelier with lilies on it. It's a lovely little hideaway, with hanging spider plants and foxtail ferns, and a view behind it of the Pacific.

A sanctuary that Pepper loves.

The rest of the greenhouse is still sparse.

She has a long table of herbs in pots coming up nicely along a quarter of one wall—basil and oregano, thyme and mint, mostly. The rest of Paradiso is currently empty, the long wide areas lined with tanks and tables, waiting delivery and plantings, although there are four large tomato plants standing in a deep trough of rich soil close by. Pepper walks over to them breathing in the spicy scent of their leaves and stems, feeling ridiculously happy at the sight of them thriving.

Several of the tomatoes are visible; smooth globes turning from green to yellow, and a few from yellow into the more familiar red-orange of ripeness. Pepper has been keeping an eye on them, waiting for just the right time to transfer them from plant to the basket on her arm.

It's a momentous occasion; this first harvest of fruit. In the last three months, all through the construction of Paradiso, from the laying of the foundation all the way through the delicate work of the glaziers and solar experts, it's been a labor of love, and Pepper has been involved in every stage of it. So much so that Tony has admitted to being very slightly jealous.

"It's a building," Pepper reminds him with a smirk. 'Besides, you *told* me to invest my time in it."

"Yeah, but not at the expense of taking it away from your primary love interest, namely *me,*" he pouts, and adds, "I guess this is how you feel about my workshop, huh?"

"I have never," Pepper tells him with dignity, "considered your *garage* a rival."

"You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better," Tony assures her with a solemn nod. "We both know the truth though."

She laughs at the memory, and Pepper is honest enough to admit to herself that Tony may have a point. There have been times when she *has* resented the hold that the workshop in the garage has over this brilliant boss of hers, and a little tit for tat with the greenhouse is a nice feeling.

Pepper moves along the airy walkway, thinking about what to plant, and how much of it to start with, when she hears an odd combination of noises. One is familiar; a sound Pepper knows well from Tony's garage.

Gears. Specifically those belonging to Dummy. She moves down the main walkway of Paradiso, wondering what the robot is doing out here. He had been instrumental in moving some of the tables around, and had helped with loading bricks and concrete during the actual construction. Pepper had always had a soft spot for the robot, who despite having no discernable face always seemed a friendly, happy, if somewhat overly literal-minded sort of personality.

The other sound rises up again, and this one isn't unfamiliar as much as unexpected. An animal sound. Pepper quickens her stride and catches sight of Dummy, who swings his claw away from her and attempts to roll away.

"Hold it," Pepper orders, feeling confused. "What do you have?"

The robot freezes, and swivels, looking . . . guilty. Pepper advances, and peers around the robot, looking carefully for the source of the noise. Sure enough . . .

Clinging to the robot's extended arm, a fuzzy black and white kitten mews again, striving to pull itself out of the loose claw grip. Pepper cups her hands to take it, moving gently to keep it from struggling, and lifts it off the arm. She runs her two thumbs down the kitten's bony spine, noting how thin and young she is. "Oh! Um, where did you find this?"

With alacrity, Dummy rolls forward and towards the loading doors of the greenhouse, out onto the far lawn. He keeps rolling, past the manicured lawns and down the drive, and Pepper trots after him, trying to keep the kitten calm while at the same time, keep an eye on the 'bot.

After a quarter mile they reach the edge of the property, and Pepper knows they're near the security fence. She holds the kitten to her shoulder, and calls, somewhat breathlessly, "Slow down!"

Dummy does, rolling in a little circle, slightly agitated, and Pepper soon sees why: beyond the fence of the estate is a small, bloody mess of fur half in and out of a flattened shopping bag on the edge of the road. The light of the setting sun makes it particularly lurid, and Pepper's gorge rises as both pity and nausea well in her. "Ohh!"

Dummy lowers his head and rocks a little, gears whirring. Pepper reaches to where he is standing and gives a sigh, her hands still stroking the kitten. "Okay, I see. You did the right thing in saving this one."

The 'bot bounces on his hydraulics, clearly delighted to have done a good deed, and although his antics alarm the kitten, Pepper can't help but grin a bit, even as she unsnags the little animal from her big tee shirt. "Good boy, yes."

They make their way back to the greenhouse to find Tony wandering there, looking curious as they come in the doors. "Hey. Where did you go?"

Pepper holds out the wary kitten. "Guess what Dummy found."

Surprised, Tony eyes the little thing, then looks at Dummy, who rolls closer, lowering himself on his hydraulics. His arm comes up and lightly tugs on Tony's shirt.

Tony eyes the 'bot with amused compassion even as he takes the kitten from Pepper's fingers, cradling it gently. "Sorry champ, not up to me. You have to ask *mom* if you can keep it."

"Oh no, wait—" Pepper protests, not sure if she wants to be stuck in the position of being the Bad Parent to rolling collection of gears and computer chips. It's too late though, and Dummy lowers himself even more, nearly at Pepper's knees, his chirruping piteous and pleading.

Tony is petting the kitten, who is purring now, and looking startled about it, as if she didn't know she could. She raises a curious paw to his goatee, patting it lightly, and Pepper is charmed by the sight. "Damn it," she murmurs in exasperation.

Dummy swivels his arm from Tony to Pepper and back again as Pepper glares at Tony, who ignores her and continues to pet the kitten.

Finally, with a noisy exhalation, she sighs. "Oh all *right*—at least for tonight. But *you*--" and here she rounds on Dummy, pointing a finger at him, "are going to be in charge of her, got it? We can set up something in the game room I guess, and I'll see about getting a few supplies."

"You've *got* to take care of her," Tony murmurs in perfect imitation of the Warner Brothers cartoon. "And feed her, and let her share your bed; she's *your* responsibility . . ."

Dummy spins around happily, utterly thrilled these new duties, and Pepper gives in and laughs. Then she steps closer to Tony and gives him a milder glare. "Passing the buck was a rotten thing to do, Mr. Stark."

"Default mode," he admits sheepishly. "Besides, you're the better disciplinarian; I can vouch for that."

"Tony," Pepper blushes, not willing to meet his blissful smirk.

The kitten has closed her eyes and sounds like a little motorboat in the crook of his elbow, her small claws coming out to knead against his bare forearm.

Tony winces slightly, and Pepper laughs. "Hey, you asked for it, Marc Anthony. I'm going to go see if Jarvis has any suggestions or supplies for . . . what do we call her?"

"Let's find out. Hey Dummy, what's your kitten's name?"

Dummy reaches out his claw and lets the bottom pincer lightly stroke the kitten's head as he makes a long whirring sound. Tony looks at Pepper, bright-eyed. "There you go: her name's Rrrrrrr."

"Rrrrrrr is not a name," Pepper protests, but she's on the verge of laughing because Dummy clacks his claw, clearly proud of the selection.

"Rrrrrrr is a perfectly good name," Tony counters. "Sort of rolls off the tongue."

"Rrrrrrr is a *noise,*" Pepper argues, but senses it's a losing battle. Both the engineer and the robot seem perfectly content to call a cat after the sound of a gear.

"Think of her purring as the organic version," Tony teases. "Talk about a feat of engineering. Even now, scientists don't have a full explanation of how purring happens." He raises his voice. "Jarvis?"

"Sir?"

"What do you know about kittens?"

"I have access to a good deal of information, but the priorities include litter boxes, string and moist food, usually in that order."

"Good enough," Tony turns and puts Rrrrrrr into Pepper's basket. She hands it to Dummy, who takes it proudly. "I think we're going to need Pets R Us make a few deliveries."

000ooo000ooo000

Two hours later, after Rrrrrrr is settled into the Game Room with a watchful Dummy on box and kibble duty, Pepper tries to get ready to leave.

Tony as usual, tries to stop her. "Oh come on," he mopes, arms wrapping around her from behind. "You can't take off and leave me with a strange animal in the house. What if it attacks?"

Pepper, who has been trying to locate her car keys, shoots Tony a bemused look. "That kitten could fit inside your Iron Man helmet with room to *spare,* Tony."

"Size is no factor when it comes to danger," he intones, and moves to kiss Pepper's neck, lingering because he knows his mustache tickles her. She wriggles against him, slowly. "Please stay . . . you know how much I hate Sunday nights when you take off."

"Tony," Pepper sighs, "We talked about this. We have our weekends, and I'll be here if you're on a mission, but it's important that the rest of the time we have some space."

"I know," he sighs back, and lets his hands slide around her hips. Tony understands Pepper's point, but it's damned poor comfort for him when he watches her drive off each Sunday night and is left to rattle around in a house too large and empty without her. This realization is a painful one, but he's too proud to beg.

Hence the seduction.

Tony grinds against her gently, never rushing, touching her in slow caresses as they stand in the bedroom, the beautiful vista of the Pacific visible through the glass wall. Pepper gives a gasp as Tony slips his hand into her leggings and panties, warm palm cupping her fluffy vulva; she widens her stance the better to let him touch her.

Since being interrupted by Rhodey, she's been in a low state of arousal all evening, and having Tony play with her like this is eroding her willpower. Pepper hates to admit it, but it's just as hard for her to leave too. Going back to the city, to her modest, overly quiet condo to face reruns and cleaning out her fridge isn't much fun. Leaving Tony's bed, that lovely weekend haven of warmth and pleasure is hard, especially when he's made is clear how much he wants her to stay.

"You *want* me," he growls into her ear before licking it. "Oh my goodness, Potts, you're more lubed up than a new gearbox."

"Tony--" Pepper snorts, because she knows when he resorts to engineering, his own hydraulics are fully functional. "I'm not a car."

His hands are peeling down the leggings, tugging her underwear with it until both are around her knees. "But you have all the right lines and curves. So warm and slick," Tony whispers, "So primed for acceleration--"

Pepper groans; Tony is cupping one breast and slowly pressing the heel of his other hand between her thighs, the pressure perfect and unbearably sensual; she reaches behind her to let her fingers caress the thick ridge of his erection through his sweatpants. "Found the stick shift."

Tony laughs, but it's a sound heavy with lust, and makes her skin pebble up with pleasure. "Ohhhhdamn, yeah." He rocks against her hand happily. "Now, Testa Rossa mio, bed. Please. I'll check under your hood like you've never had. Promise."

"No," Pepper tells him, and spins, pushing Tony back against the glass of the window wall. She kisses him deeply, hands moving to tug his sweats down, and caresses his hot, turgid shaft at the same time. Tony pants, giving in to her hungry touches, aware of the quick glitter in her eyes, and the dangerous amusement in her smile.

This is the Pepper who gets things done, and Tony loves being the recipient of her kisses, her touches, her direct and slightly imperious lust. He lets his head fall back against the cool glass as she licks his mouth and toys with his cock, fingers stroking. "Here. On the window."

"Yes," he agrees, breathing hard, excited as hell. Pepper fishes in his pocket for the condom, knowing it would be there, and unwraps it, unrolling it onto him smoothly as she mouths his throat.

"My, my, Mr. Stark, you seem to have a prominent driveshaft--"

"Unnnngh," he groans, glancing down. "Come here; time for the test drive."

Pepper moves closer, and raises a knee against his hip; Tony hooks a forearm under it and pulls her against him while her hand guides him forward. He thrusts, sinking into the tight heat of Pepper's body, and his free arm snakes around her ass, "Ohhhyeahhhhh!"

She gives that lovely gasp and rocks against him, hands gripping his shoulders. It's awkward only for a moment, and then they thrust together, kissing hard, the thumping against the glass punctuated by the slick sounds of hard, sweet sex and their groans.

The angle hurts a little but Tony doesn't care because Pepper is clutching him, hair shaking loose, her eyes fluttering. After a few minutes of beautiful rhythm, she's close to coming, and he growls at her, "Do it, *do* it . . . wanna watch you come . . ."

Pepper reaches down between them, and lightly, quickly touches herself as Tony thrusts harder. Between her fingers and his pumping, her body tightens around his surging, glistening cock. Tony grunts, fighting off his own pleasure to watch hers, savoring the rise of pink across her face, the dazed look of passion as Pepper gives up his name. "OhhhTonyyyyy . . ."

That's all it takes; all he needs, and the raw heat surges through his stomach, fine tuned into white-hot bliss rocketing through his loins as he growls, coming hard in spasming pulses.

They sag against the smudged glass, wobbling a little, and Tony struggles to support them, but slowly, with a few giggles from Pepper, they end up sliding down the wall to the carpet. He's careful to grip the condom and peel it off, grateful when Pepper hands him a tissue from her fallen purse. "Will you look at that—I'm down a quart."

"At least," Pepper smirks, rolling her eyes. Like so many other things, Tony Stark is a bit of an overachiever, and tends to be generous, seminally. At first Pepper was embarrassed by his comments about it, but now it's just one of those private jokes they share. He knots the full condom and wraps it up, then shoots the package to the beside garbage can, making it.

Pepper laughs, stretching out on the carpet, bare-assed, tee-shirt rumpled. "Two points."

"Getting all the practice in helps," Tony points out, lying down beside her, and pulling her to him. "Oooooh, not getting up soon, in any sense of the word. The whole window thing? Kinky, Potts."

"Mmm, what can I say? I like a scenic drive," she replies, resting her head on his shoulder. He laughs at that, cozy and blissful for the moment, even if they are on the floor, half-dressed and about to fall asleep.

"Zoom, zoom," Tony tells her, and closes his eyes, knowing she's staying this time.


	3. Chapter 3

The mission isn't a hard one; just long. Tony is getting used to flying halfway around the world and back, but the physical part of it does take its toll at times. Pepper has urged him to stop at one of his houses and just take a jet back; sleep and get some rest instead going it in a marathon, but Tony doesn't bother, because the sooner he's back, the better. The sooner he's *home* to her, the better.

Having someone to return to really does make a difference, although he's not admitting it.

Home is now Pepper, who helps him get bathed and bandaged and fed; who makes sure there are analgesics and heating pads as needed. It's waking up with her there, and making love and finishing off whatever is in the fridge and letting Jarvis brief him on the outcome of the mission, the Lakers games, the state of Stark Industries.

Therefore Tony's annoyed to step out of the shower, clean and tired, to find Pepper on the phone instead of ushering him to bed. He shoots her a 'please get off the phone' glare, but she shakes her head, and her next words explain why.

" . . .*love* to spend Thanksgiving with you—let me check and make sure . . ." Pepper pins the phone to her chest and shoots Tony a slightly pleading look.

He sighs. Pepper doesn't ask for a lot when it comes to personal favors, and one of the few is her right to spend Thanksgiving with her aunt. She's done it every year, and while he was hoping they might share this one for themselves, he understands her family obligation.

"Sure," he mumbles, using the end of the bath sheet to rub his hair dry, figuring he can mooch a visit to Rhodey's family if he puts on a sad enough face.

Pepper beams at Tony, and pulls the phone up again. "He's looking forward to it, so we'll be out there on Wednesday night at the latest . . . yes, yes . . . you take care too, Aunt Ruby. Goodnight—"

As she hangs up, Tony shoots her an odd little smile; one slightly twisted, as if he can't quite believe what he's just heard. Pepper bites her lips. "Tony? It *is* okay with you, right? I mean, the last time I looked, your calendar for Thanksgiving was pretty open, and I *meant* to tell you that Aunt Ruby asked if you'd like—"

She doesn't get any further; Tony picks her up and hugs her tightly, driving the air from her lungs, and losing his bath towel in the process. Pepper laughs, because being hugged by a damp, naked Tony Stark is a definitely worthwhile experience.

"Um, yeah, sure, un-huh. I can probably work in a visit . . . hell YES!" he roars, grinning, unable to keep up the pretense of bland disinterest. "Considering your aunt officially owns my soul through her chocolate chip cookies, I'm anticipating orgiastic bliss through culinary masterpieces of the turkey variety."

"I know it would be immodest to tell you you're right," Pepper murmurs, rubbing her nose with his, "but, you're right. Thanksgiving at Aunt Ruby's is pretty food-intense."

"I," he sighs, "Am good with it. Tell me a bedtime story, and start with the pie."

Pepper laughs. She helps Tony under the covers; he groans a little, but settles in, stretching out and relaxing. She looks up. "Jarvis, lights out, please. Regular morning routine, with an added coda to contact the pilot tomorrow."

"Of course. Sleep well," Jarvis replies. The lights go out, and the white noise machine's subtle tone, just at the level of audible perception goes on. Pepper slips out of her peignoir and into bed. Tony reaches for her, draping her comfortably over his left side. They won't stay that way, but it's how they always start their nights together; close and intimate.

"Well, Aunt Ruby makes the three Ps," Pepper murmurs softly, stroking Tony's forehead. "Pumpkin, pecan and peach, although I'll probably make the peach this year."

"Mmmmmmmmmm," Tony sighs. "Like 'em all. Should we bring pecans? I think I have a grove or something in Georgia."

"You own *three* pecan farms and a processing plant in Georgia," Pepper reminds him. "Part of a diversification investment from a few years ago, and yes, we'll bring some pecans with us. Maybe even peaches."

"Peaches," Tony mumbles, clearly about to drop off. "Anything else?"

"Well, that's it unless you've got a platter stashed up somewhere. Aunt Ruby broke hers yesterday getting it out of the upper cabinet," Pepper tells him sadly. "I think I'll order her one and have it shipped before we go."

"Mmmmmm," comes the reply, and Pepper counts to twenty, but before she can finish, she too, is out.

000ooo000ooo000

Despite all his efforts, he cannot talk her into joining the Mile High Club. Pepper makes it a point to keep her laptop between them for the trip, and Tony is pleased to see her blush every time he throws a suggestive comment out. "Honestly, it's just *us* here you know. And I have a cabin and everything."

"No. I'm not going show up at my aunt's house smelling like . . ."

" . . . Close encounters of the Stark kind? We could shower. I've got this great little shower in there. Hand held," Tony murmurs seductively, his eyes alight with possibilities that deepen Pepper's blush.

She tries to glare at him. "Tony, you need to throttle back that libido of yours. We are going to my aunt's house, and it's very likely we'll have separate bedrooms there. Please tell me you can cope with that?"

He pouts. "How long are we staying again?"

"We'll be leaving Sunday afternoon, unless you get paged for a mission."

"Four *days?* What are you trying to do, drive me to a monastery?" He grumbles. "Seriously, four whole days?"

"You've managed before," Pepper dryly replies to these dramatics. "And don't tell me you haven't."

"Not voluntarily," he's quick to point out. "Fine. Just be aware that I might end up a tad . . . cranky."

Pepper looks up from the computer screen, her expression of mock-sympathy soft and sweet. "Poor baby. Yes, I'm sure it qualifies as inhumane treatment to ask you to abstain from sex for a few days."

"Stop treating this like a joke," Tony mumbles. "I'm a *deeply* sensitive genius."

"No comment," Pepper replies, but she smiles, and tosses him his one of a kind home-made state of the art handheld game system. Glumly Tony catches it and loads up _Pikman: Legions of Color-Coded Doom._

000ooo000ooo000

The farmhouse is just as Pepper remembers it, but it's been freshly painted, slate blue with white trim. Off across the frosty fields is a compact single story building she knows is the weather data collection post. Tony is standing next to her, suitcases in hand, looking handsome in his dark coat, his breath coming in puffs.

"Cold," he remarks, and she realizes how very Californian he is.

"Gets that way here," she replies, and then the door opens and Aunt Ruby comes out, wiping her hands on her apron, her smile big. She's more fragile looking now, but livelier too. Pepper knows that she's in her element during a holiday.

She makes a beeline for Pepper and hugs her warmly; a hug that's returned heartily. Then Ruby turns to Tony and hesitates; he lets go of the suitcase and takes both her hands instead, squeezing them and speaking softly. "Mrs. Cozlinski, I am very touched to be invited for the holiday. Thank you."

Pepper melts a little. Tony has impeccable manners when he bothers to use them, and clearly Aunt Ruby is touched by his sincerity. She squeezes his gloved hands back. "You're very welcome young man, and I think it's time you called me Ruby, please."

"Please call me Tony," he replies, and smiles.

Ruby nods, and looks around, then laughs. "All right then, let's get inside before we all catch a chill. I've got a casserole in the oven, and the dining room to clean." She turns and heads back up the porch steps into the house, and Pepper takes a suitcase handle. It's Tony's, and heavier than she remembers; Tony takes it from her with a mysterious smile and Pepper wonders if he's packed a portable workshop in it.

Ah well, she figures, this is Tony and he'll need gadgets to play with.

The wonderful smell of chicken casserole drifts in the house, and the sound of Aunt Ruby's beloved easy-listening station makes Pepper relax. This is the way the holidays go, these familiar, beloved things. A figure rises from the kitchen table, and comes towards her.

"Ginnie, it's good to see you!" comes the reedy voice of her cousin Paul. He's put on weight, and his shirt buttons are straining a bit; the longer sideburns are not a good look for his pale and thinning red hair. She's not excited about being hugged by him, but he's family and she lets him. Then he turns to Tony and Pepper can *see* Paul preparing to suck up.

Tony can see it too, she smirks to herself. He holds out a hand and judging by Paul's expression, Tony's grip is painful. "Tony Stark. And you are?"

"Paul Cozlinski," he wheezes. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Yes," Tony murmurs. "Lawyer, right?"

Paul nods, clearly surprised that he would know.

Tony give a shake of his head. "Ah well, I suppose there's one in every family."

Aunt Ruby catches the tail end of this and tries not to laugh; Pepper is biting her lips hard for a moment, exasperated but amused too.

So very, very Tony.

"All right, you and Ginnie have the front rooms over the porch if you want to get settled in," Aunt Ruby announces brightly. "Dinner is in an hour, and Ginnie, if you're up for it, Clarence needs a dose of medicine and there are eggs to bring in."

"Sure," Pepper replies, glad of something to do. Tony has already picked up the bags and is looking at her for direction, so she motions to left, and the stairwell there. They go up, passing framed family photos on the floral wallpaper, taking the turn and stepping onto the landing. Pepper gestures to two adjacent rooms. "Take your pick."

"I choose the one *you're* in," Tony murmurs under his breath, and she rolls her eyes.

"House rules—" she murmurs back. "Play nice, Tony."

He takes the one on the left, and Pepper stands in the doorway as he looks around. The wall paper has a pattern of soft fleur de lis on it in gold, and the bed is old-fashioned, with tall wooden posts at the foot and head. At the writing desk there's a computer; several years old but functional, and the closet is empty except for a few bare hangers.

"It's okay?" Pepper asks. Tony looks at her, but her smug little gaze is along the wall that separates their rooms.

The wall with a door.

He smiles. "Perfect."

Pepper laughs, and carries her suitcase next door. Once she's gone, Tony heaves his suitcase on the bed. He opens the case and digs around for a moment, shifting the jeans and socks around until his fingers touch the thick glass.

Carefully he pulls out the platter and examines it for a moment, then tucks it under his arm and heads downstairs.

Aunt Ruby is alone at the kitchen sink, rinsing a cream pitcher; she looks up as Tony approaches her, holding out the platter.

"Can you use this?" he asks quietly. "Pepper mentioned you'd broken yours, and I thought . . ."

She takes it, looking at the pressed glass, blinking hard. It's a heavy oval platter, with patterns of grapes and vines around the edges, and a raised, bumpy surface on the inside. A beautiful piece from the Fifties. "This is . . . lovely. I couldn't--"

"You should. You really should," Tony murmurs. "I packed it away after my parents died, and it's a waste not to use it. Frankly, I don't cook much, and it would make me and my mother happy to see it on a table again. Please, Ruby."

Aunt Ruby bites her lips; the familiar gesture sends a pang through Tony. She carefully sets it down on the kitchen counter and holds out her arms. Shyly he moves into them and Ruby hugs Tony, her soft whisper for him alone. "You are a credit to your mother, Anthony Stark. Thank you."

He blinks, eyes bright, smile crooked. "Thank *you.*"

Then Paul comes in through the back door, face red, arms full of firewood. "Getting cold out there. I think it might snow tonight." He drops the wood into the scuttle, noisily.

Tony looks startled. "Really?"

Both Paul and Aunt Ruby nod; Ruby speaks up. "Before the Mortensens left they mentioned it might, yes. It's been a few years since the temperature dropped low enough to do that by Thanksgiving."

"Snow," Tony marvels. "I usually only see that in Aspen."

"Aspen," Paul drawls, pointing a finger at Tony his smirk unpleasant. "Skiing with celebrities, right? I seem to recall a story about you in a pret-ty notorious situation there with a hot tub full of naked babes--"

Pepper strides into the kitchen, and puts her hands on Tony's back, steering him in a circle and out the door again. "Time to go give Clarence his meds. Later, Paul--"

They coat up and head out, Pepper stamping through the frosty ground ahead of him, not looking at Tony. He sighs; a reputation is a hard thing to live down, even now.

"I'm sorry," he tries.

Pepper shoots a compassionate look over her shoulder at him. "For what? Paul was being a jerk in bringing that ancient scandal up. Not your fault, Tony."

He feels better, and follows Pepper into the barn. She rolls the door open, flicks a switch and dim bare lightbulbs go on down the center of the barn; animals in the stalls stir a bit. Tony loops an arm around Pepper's waist and pulls her close, nuzzling her in the warm privacy of the barn.

She hugs him for a moment. "Paul's just jealous."

"He can stay jealous; I'm not going to hot tub naked with him no matter how much he begs."

Pepper's laugh is enough to stir the horses, and she spends the next few minutes moving from stall to stall, soothing them. When she and Tony reach Clarence's stall, the bull listlessly turns his head to look at them, tail flicking slightly. Tony eyes the big animal with concern. "What's wrong?"

"According to this," Pepper picks up a bottle of liquid on the shelf of the stall and reads the prescription label, "Clarence has some internal parasites, poor baby."

"Okay, ew," Tony mutters. "TMI is ruining the Normal Rockwell effect."

Pepper carefully loads a needle-less syringe and moves towards Clarence's head. The bull lets her pat him soothingly, and she gently works the syringe into the corner of his mouth and squirts. Tony watches in fascination as Pepper manages to calm the bull; the animal's thick tongue flicks out as Clarence swallows and tries to figure out what just happened.

"Okay, we need to move back, waaaay back, like, to the other side of the barn," Pepper mutters, tucking the syringe back on the shelf and pushing Tony impatiently. He looks confused, but she's shoving him now, HARD, and he stumbles away. Pepper is starting to run for the barn doors, and just then . . .

The loud, explosively liquid sound of a massive bovine bowel movement reverberates through the barn, and the odorous waft of methane and manure fill the air.

Tony slams against one of the stall dividers, hand instinctively pinching his nose, his eyes huge and alarmed. Pepper takes one look at his face and bursts into laughter. He shoots her a look of pure disgust. "Oh *that* is just . . . . need to say it, fucking *GROSS* Potts!"

This is delivered in a high whiny drone through his pinched nostrils, and makes Pepper laugh even harder; she clings to the barn door, wheezing now, cheeks red, hair tumbling loose as Tony Stark waves a hand in front of his face and stumbles towards her, his revulsion in perfect comic effect. He scoops an arm around her waist, and spins with her through the doors, both of them slamming up against it on the outside. Pepper is crying, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You set me up, Snuggles!" he accuses, and she can't deny it.

"W-w-welcome to farm life, City Boy--" she chuffs, wiping her cheeks with her wrist, still smiling.

"Shit," Tony mutters staring down at his shoes, and that sets her laughing again.

000ooo000ooo000

The casserole is excellent, and Pepper is irked that Paul takes seconds and thirds before anyone else is done with their first servings. Aunt Ruby talks about Charles and Emily Mortenson, and how well they've fit into life in Kiowa; enough so that they're about to buy a house on the edge of town. Paul offers up some family news about Pepper's nephews, and tends to dominate the rest of the conversations, but Tony is polite for most of it, and Pepper appreciates the effort he's making on her behalf.

Aunt Ruby brings out warm espresso brownies for dessert. "Someone told me you like coffee," she murmurs to Tony.

Pepper can see his eyes warm with pleasure. She slips her foot against his under the table, fighting a giggle when his sock-covered feet grip her ankle in return and start caressing it. Tony's under-the-table playfulness helps curb her annoyance when Paul loads up on the brownies ahead of everyone else at the table.

000ooo000ooo000

After dinner and dishes and a viewing of _Arsenic and Old Lace _on Turner Classic Movies, Pepper and Aunt Ruby go together to lock up the barn and check on the garden. They walk companionably together, and shovel up Clarence's offering, dumping it into a veterinarian's plastic bag for later disposal, and Pepper tells her aunt about Tony's reaction.

Aunt Ruby laughs softly. "That was wicked of you, Ginnie Caroline Potts. I've a good mind to move you to the downstairs bedroom for that." She arches an eyebrow, making it clear she's aware of the connecting door, and Pepper blushes.

"I couldn't help it; he's so . . . cosmopolitan," she murmurs.

"But you love him anyway," Aunt Ruby replies with a knowing smile. "And I can see why. "Trying as I'm sure he can be, the man can't hide the nobler aspects of his nature."

Pepper sighs. "Yes. And I still can't shake the feeling that I'm letting myself in for a world of heartache, though."

Her aunt reaches out and rubs Pepper's shoulder comfortingly. "Honey, to love is to risk. No guarantees in this life about anything, much less matters of the heart. But from what I can see, you're both serious about this, and making the effort. That does matter in the scheme of things."

The smile Pepper flashes is tremulous and bright. "Thanks."

They walk to the back of the farmhouse, and through the gate into the garden. The boxes are covered with burlap, and mulched over. Pepper looks over the garden and smiles. "Anything still coming in?"

"A few last minute gourds, and I have some potatoes to dig up in a few weeks," Aunt Ruby replies thoughtfully. "That reminds me, I have some jars of strawberry jam and dilly beans for you to take back. I put up extra this year."

"Thanks," Pepper smiles, and carefully mentions, "Um, Tony built me . . . a greenhouse."

Aunt Ruby blinks, looking amused in the light from the back porch. "You don't say."

"Yeah."

Both women stand silent for a long moment, and finally Aunt Ruby smiles. It's a lovely smile, full and sweet; the smile that won Janos' heart so many years ago. "Oh honey, that's marvelous! A great big full . . ?" she waves her arms out, and Pepper nods, finally grinning herself, blushing at the same time. They hug, laughing.


	4. Chapter 4

Night in the country is not quiet. The wind is an ever present hum, rising to gusts that make the house creak. There are the odd rumbles and animal cries; the ticking of clocks and shifting of floorboards.

Doors creak, Tony realizes with chagrin, and so do bedsprings.

"Pepper?" he calls in a whisper, pushing open the door to peer into her room. It's about the same size as his, but more feminine, with roses on the wallpaper, and what looks like a vanity table with frilly lace around it.

Pepper slides out of her bed, a duplicate of his right down to the tall bedposts, and tiptoes over to Tony, her old grey Kiowa Coyotes sleep shirt not long enough to hide her bare legs. "Tony—"

"Sorry, I got lonely," he tells her with his best innocent little boy expression. In the semidarkness, his arc glows through the MIT tee shirt, and Pepper laughs to herself.

"Get in bed, you're going to freeze!"

"I thought you'd *never* ask--" he murmurs and scoops her into his arms, moving towards her bed. Pepper doesn't argue; even through socks the wooden floors are cold, and the sooner they're under the covers the better. They climb in and cuddle, trying to regain body warmth on the old saggy mattress.

Pepper hears a crinkly noise and recognizes it as a condom wrapper in Tony's sweat pants pocket. "You're incorrigible."

"One of the factors that got me where I am today," he whispers back, and kisses Pepper, rolling towards her.

The bed creaks.

"Yours too?" Tony sighs. "Damn it."

"It's not . . . impossible to work around it," Pepper murmurs gently, stroking his chest, her fingers moving further south. "There are . . . ways."

"You have my complete attention," Tony moans, "Even *with* cold fingers--"

"Shhh," Pepper chides, whispering naughtily. "Think about this from an engineering point of view. Shifting the thrust from the top to another direction."

"Talking dirty physics . . . okay, if up and down is out . . . ooohhh. Idea." He peels his shirt off.

"Yes?" Pepper encourages him, running a leg up his hip. Tony doesn't reply, at least not verbally, but given that he's always been more hands-on than anything else, Pepper is willing to let him shift her around. What she's not prepared for though, is leaving the warmth of under the covers; she protests, but Tony kisses her until her reluctance dissolves.

"Trust me?" he teases, knowing full well by the pucker of her nipples and quick breathing that Pepper is aroused.

"I'm not sure I should," she tells him reluctantly as he slips out of bed and tugs her along with him.

"I'll keep you warm," Tony promises, and lightly pats the low mattress. Pepper's mouth twitches as she understands what he's suggesting, and she leans over, bracing her hands on it, looking over her shoulder at him.

"Perfect!" Tony sighs, and pushes her Kiowa Coyotes nightshirt up, exposing her taut backside. Somehow the sight of Pepper in thick pink socks and not much else, bent over the bed is cranking his libido to previously unknown levels, and Tony bends to nip her butt, savoring her gasp.

"Tony!"

"Okay, I admit it--I love your ass," he admits happily. "Love it, love it, love it." His hands cup each cheek possessively and he rubs himself against Pepper, growling now. "Ohyeah."

"Stop. Scentmarking. Me." Pepper orders in a hissy, pissy whisper. She's all too aware of Tony's slightly domineering tendencies, and although her entire body is quivering, she's still got enough awareness to snap at him. Tony leans down across her back, nipping at her neck, licking her sensitive skin and making her writhe.

"Look forward," he breathes in her ear, and Pepper does, seeing herself in the mirror on the back of the open closet door.

Herself with Tony lying on her.

"Ohhhhh . . ." she squeaks, slightly startled. She didn't think she looked like . . . that. Tousled, erotic and bright-eyed. Tony raises himself up and moves back to her ass, pushing her thighs apart with one of his own.

"I need you right *now*," he pants, rolling the condom on. Lightly one hand reaches down between her thighs, caressing, fingers gliding along the seam of her sex, widening her, sliding through her slick wetness. "God, Pepper—"

"Yes," she tells him, and rocks back just as he rocks forward. They smack together, and then Tony pushes her down onto the mattress, biting back his heavy, pleasured groan as he thrusts deeply into her.

Pepper groans too; taking Tony this way hits all sorts of deep exciting places in her, and when he moves, stroking them, it's all she can do not to cry out in delight. There are probably medical and scientific explanations, none of which matter a damn right now, not when Tony is riding her hard and making her shudder.

"More. Harder!" she manages to plead through long, sweet minutes of mindless pleasure, bracing with giddy anticipation, widening her stance and gripping the bedspread. "Yess, more, God, more!"

He feels incredible, moving strongly, deeply in her, and Pepper wriggles, lost in the heat and madness, stroke after stroke making her tense and hungry, winding her body up. She loves Tony like this, powerful and just as on edge as she is.

Pepper looks at their reflection in the mirror, and it's so . . . primitive; so breathtakingly sensual that she softly cries out. Her mouth open, head arched up as she groans, clawing the mattress. Tony, shirtless, rocks behind her, eyes half-closed, the arc glowing over his flexing muscles and her bare ass, the sight sweet and raw.

"OhGodP-PepperIcan'toooooohJesussss--" He grunts, barely coherent, and she comes, breathless, weightless, body soaring on a wave of sensation wrapped around the pounding of her heart in frantic thuds.

So good. So delicious and good and right and piercingly sweet she can't take too much of it and can't get enough of it. Pepper arches, tears spilling down her cheeks because she loves this: Tony, sex, love, orgasms, they all seem to be the same in this one fraction of space and time.

Pepper feels the pulses of Tony's climax through his thick cock, the throbs buried deep within her as he slumps onto her back, his own roar muffled against her shoulder, the sound dying away into kisses as he fights to calm his breathing.

They are a boneless pile on the top of the mattress now, cooling and silent, shifting slowly from unity in love to their separate awarenesses again. Pepper reaches for one of Tony's hands and pulls it to her mouth, kissing it. "Wwwwwowwwww."

"Nmmmmungh," Tony agrees, rolling off or her with a slurky sound as his softening cock slides out of her. "Glfffffffts."

"W-what?" Pepper laughs a bit in the darkness. Tony kisses the closest bit of her, which at this moment is her exposed ribcage.

"We're SO getting a mirror for the bedroom when we get home."

000ooo000ooo000

Pepper hears voices in the kitchen, and is startled to find Tony and Aunt Ruby sharing oatmeal and coffee. She glances at the clock and notes it's barely six-thirty; practically the middle of the night for Tony Stark. But here he is, alert and spooning down breakfast as if he's always been an early riser.

She shakes her head and comes in; Ruby smiles. "Oatmeal, Ginnie? You know the rules; no food after seven on Thanksgiving."

"Sure," Pepper nods, and goes to pour herself some coffee. "Did you want me to get the eggs?"

"Already done," Tony looks up, slightly smug. "I didn't even break one."

"He broke two," Aunt Ruby sighs, "but that was only because Cranston chased him and pecked at his ankle."

Pepper smirks; Tony looks slightly sullen. "He was *mean.* Besides I saved the rest, right?"

"Right. And thanks to your effort, we'll have meringue on the pie today," Aunt Ruby reassures him. "Now I've got some cooking to start on, so I'm counting on you two to keep yourselves entertained until dinner. The mares could use exercise, Clarence needs more medicine, and Emily asked me to look in on the station to make sure the data printer is on-line."

Pepper looks at Tony, who smiles back. "Okay then. I checked in on Rrrrrrr; Jarvis says Rhodey will be coming by today to play with her a while. Where's Paul?"

"He needed to pick up a few things in town," Aunt Ruby replies, rising and picking up Tony's empty oatmeal bowl. "Should be back soon."

Just as Pepper finishes the last of her oatmeal, hot and mixed with brown sugar, Paul comes in, grocery bags in hand. His expression is ruefully gleeful. "Hey, somebody made the _Enquirer_ today!"

Tony and Pepper exchange weary glances. Aunt Ruby's mouth purses, but she deftly picks up the tabloid and flicks it open. A few pages in and she stops, looking startled. Pepper rises, and comes around to look. She blushes. "Ohhhhhhh!"

Tony rolls his eyes and reaches a hand out; Aunt Ruby reluctantly gives him the _Enquirer_ and he stares at the lurid yellow headline.

_MOON OVER MALIBU: Tony Stark's best side! _The headline reads, accompanied by a grainy, out-of-focus picture of Tony's back and bare ass pressed up against one of the windows of his mansion.

The bedroom window, to be precise.

Pepper can feel her face flame up, well aware of the circumstances of the picture even though the only visible aspect is Tony's muscled tushie. Tony cocks his head, appraising the shot, and Pepper sees he's slightly pink too.

Aunt Ruby gives a little sniff. "Oh lord, and it's not even the *nicest* shot of your rump. Honestly, the one they ran of you two years ago when you were flashing that Westboro preacher was *much* better."

"Aunt Ruby!" Pepper bursts out, shocked, but Tony nods thoughtfully.

"You're right. Besides, to get this one, they had to be out in a boat with a telephoto lens, and I'm pretty sure it violates the property line."

"What are your real estate boundaries? Did they include the water specifically?" Paul asks. When everyone looks at him, he shrugs. "Sorry; contract and real estate law is my bread and butter."

Tony shoots him an amused glance. "Really? Think I have a case here?"

"If not libel and defamation of character then possibly trespassing," Paul tells him, looking serious for once. "The first two would have been tough to consider before you, um, got into the hero business, but public opinion of you has changed a lot in the last year, Stark. The latter charge would be a snap to prove if you've got your estate particulars on record and adding harassment would be pretty easy too."

Tony nods. "Willing to go on retainer and get it started? I pay pretty well."

Paul looks startled. "Me? Oh come on--don't you have entire *offices* of legal counsel at your beck and call?"

"Sure," Tony admits, "But since most of them are on vacation, and since *you* spotted the potential lawsuit, I think it's only fair to use the resources at hand. Unless you want to pass on it."

For a minute the two men look at each other.

Then Paul slowly breaks into a wide grin. "I didn't think I was going to like you, Stark. But my mother does, and I have to admit that the deal you made with her for that weather station was more than generous—believe me, I checked. So . . . hell yeah, I'd be damned glad to do this one for you."

"Good," Tony tells him. "Yeah, I'm not the nicest guy in the world; I freely admit that. But if I want to press ham towards Hawaii, I don't think it needs to be shared with the rest of the United States."

Pepper is mortified, face buried in her hands. Aunt Ruby reaches over and rubs her shoulder comfortingly, then moves to rise from the table. "Now, now, Ginnie—it's not the worst picture _The Enquirer's _ever run of Tony."

"Nope. I'm pretty sure my taking a whiz in the Rose Garden of the White House is," Tony nods. "Although to be fair they airbrushed out the Vice President and the Attorney General on either side of me in that photo."

"Yeah, I remember that one," Paul snorts. "Called it a security leak, didn't they?"

"Yep. There I was, doing my bit for recycling," Tony sighs. "Ah well. Come on, Potts, let's get the damage control started."

000ooo000ooo000

At first she decides she's not going to talk to him for the rest of the day; Pepper is majorly *pissed* and not in a forgiving mood.

And yet, she sighs to herself, *she* was the one who talked him into a nice upright encounter. *She* was the one responsible for Tony's cheeky display.

It's as much if not MORE her fault than his, and *that's* what's bothering Pepper so much. The realization that both of them are now fair game for the tabloids, the Internet, the gossip shows . . . it's just starting to dawn on Pepper, and she isn't sure she can deal with it.

They saddle up the mares and ride; Tony is a little awkward in the saddle but treats his animal well, Pepper notes. They go to the weather data station and he checks it over, much more comfortable with machines than with the horse, and before they remount to ride back, he pulls Pepper into his arms and gives a long sigh. "I'm sorry the damned tabloid ruined Thanksgiving, Snuggles. That *is* the problem with glass houses, literally."

She can't stay mad at him, especially for something that isn't his fault; for an incident she herself initiated. Pepper cups his face and kisses him, then smiles. "Tony—I knew the risks before I fell in love with you."

"When *was* that?" Tony asks wistfully after the kiss, licking his lips.

"Oh it's been a while," she assured him, her dimples framing her smile. "Trust me."

"Really?" comes his question, and the soft sound of it makes her kiss him again, more reassuringly this time.

"Yes. Longer than you think," Pepper confesses, and for a moment the glow of joy in his eyes nearly overwhelms her.

*** *** ***

The turkey is magnificent, and the table is loaded with all manner of dishes: baby peas; gravy; potatoes; green beans; sweet potato casserole, stuffing, cranberry sauce; a relish tray and onions in nutmeg cream sauce. Tony is wide-eyed, and both Pepper and Aunt Ruby smile at each other.

"I just hope they'll be enough to go around," Aunt Ruby murmurs, and finally Tony grins, realizing he's being teased.

"Yeah, pret-ty skimpy here—" he murmurs back, deeply touched to see the tray in use. "We may have to order pizza later."

They sit down and Aunt Ruby has them join hands for a prayer and for a moment Tony feels a well of emotion rising up at the feel of Pepper's warm grip on his right and Ruby's frail bony one on his left.

_I've missed so much_-- he thinks, and like Scrooge, he's glad it's not too late.

Paul carves and serves up the turkey, and dishes begin to move around the table, the conversation light and comfortable. For a while the only noises are cutlery and requests for gravy and happy sounds of chewing and savoring. Judging by the helpings and refills, it's a successful Thanksgiving, and Aunt Ruby winks at Pepper.

"Great stuffing, Mom," Paul sighs happily. "And turkey and peas. Always worth the trip."

"Thank you dear. Got this bird from Lila this year; she set it aside for me special."

Pepper notes with glee that Tony is making a good dent in the peas *and* the beans while not slouching on the turkey either. She shoots him a teasing glance. "Hungry?"

"I worked up an appetite earlier this morning," he replies with just a hint of suggestiveness. "And let's face it; your aunt is a terrific cook."

Pepper cannot argue with that, and turns back to her own plate, feeling cheerful and warm.

She and Aunt Ruby take on the dishes afterwards, while Paul catches the football game on the living room television and Tony murmurs something about a walk. It starts to snow a few hours later, lightly, but growing in strength through the afternoon, and by the time Aunt Ruby brings out the warm pies, Tony finally returns, red-cheeked, and smelling of motor oil and wood.

Pepper is instantly suspicious. She wants to ask—demand, really—what he's been up to, but he dodges around her and approaches Ruby, eyes bright.

"I have something for you," he tells the older woman, and holds out what looks like an ancient remote control.

Ruby takes it, surprised. "My. What's this?"

"Come on, I'll show you," Tony tells her eagerly, and hands her the old flannel jacket she keeps by the door. Pepper follows suit, wondering what Tony's done now.

They move towards the barn, and Tony beams at Ruby. "Go on, press it."

She tentatively lifts the remote and pushes the button on it; the barn door automatically rolls open and the lights go on inside.

"Oh for goodness sake!" comes Ruby's delighted interjection. "Oh *that's* going to come in handy!"

"There's more," Tony assures her, and takes her shoulders, turning her to face the house. "Try it now."

Ruby lifts the remote and pushes the button; long strings of holiday bulbs hanging on the eaves of the porch light up, along with the strings wound down the columns and through the rails.

Pepper is close to tears; the house looks beautifully festive in the darkening day, the bulbs bright and cheerful. Ruby is already wiping her eyes.

"Oh Tony---I haven't had those things up in ages . . . And I didn't even *know* Jan had that old garage door opener still around!"

"Found his workshop, and I got to thinking it might be handy for you to be able to open the barn from the house," Tony admitted. "And it didn't take much to change the frequency to work the outside outlets."

Ruby hugs him again, squeezing tightly, and he hugs back with gentleness, then moves to Pepper's side.

"You hung Christmas lights all by *yourself?*" Pepper demands, seeing tracks along the porch roof, fighting visions of Tony plunging off and breaking his leg, or worse.

He grins at her. "Relax, It wasn't hard."

"Tony . . ." she rolls her eyes. "If you had slipped . . ."

" . . . and died hanging Christmas lights, then yes, it would have been a dumb, stupid tragedy. Buuuuut I didn't, and it all worked out. Is it time for pie yet?" he asks hopefully.

Ruby points the remote towards the barn and clicks it; the lights there go out and the door rolls shut as she laughs delightedly. They both watch her.

Pepper slips an arm around Tony's waist and lightly rests her head on his shoulder, smiling, feeling warm and cozy and happy now. "Okaaaay, I give—you've earned pie and then some, Mr. Stark."

"Good, because it's really, really *cold* out here, and my fingers are numb," Tony tells her, adding in an undertone, "I'm going to warm them up later, on you."

"Oh like *hell,*" Pepper tells him with dangerous sweetness as they make their way back into the farmhouse. "Like hell."


	5. Chapter 5

Tony is quiet, and Pepper is worried because this isn't really normal for him. Paul has already left for St. Louis, they're dressed nicely, sitting in the living room, and Tony hasn't said a word for several minutes. She looks at him, but he catches her gaze and lightly shakes his head even as he manages a small smile.

He's not ready to talk about it.

Pepper suspects he's uncomfortable with the situation, but he did agree to go, and Tony doesn't back out of personal agreements nowadays, not the way he used to before Iron Man. In this past year she's noted a real change in his attitude towards commitments, and that scares Pepper a little, because it gives her a sense of hope for the future.

A hope that could just as easily die in a firefight in some other country, Pepper knows, and feels connected to so many other women across the country in the same position. Being the one left behind is hard, and Iron Man armor is no guarantee that Tony Stark won't end up a fatality.

Aunt Ruby comes downstairs, looking elegant in a dark dress. She nods approvingly at both of them when Tony stands, and goes to the closet for her good coat.

St. Casmir's is a small brick church only a few minutes away, tucked along one of the highway turnoffs. The parking lot has only a few vehicles in it; mostly working trucks and one or two family cars. Wreaths are on the big wooden doors, and when Pepper walks up the steps, the sweet spicy scent of incense lingers on the air around the doors.

A little crone in a purple hat and dress standing there holds out programs, and smiles at Ruby, greeting her softly in what seems to be Polish. Ruby nods and takes the programs, then steps into the dim interior of the church. Pepper and Tony follow her inside.

The wooden pews gleam in the light from the stained glass windows, and candles are everywhere; in front of statues of Mary in niches, in long racks in alcoves at the sides of the church. Aunt Ruby moves up to the ninth pew and genuflects, then moves in.

Pepper follows suit, and then Tony; she's startled at his easy, full knee down, but hides her reaction when he comes to sit by her on the pew. Aunt Ruby sets the kneeler down and moves onto it, thin arthritic hands clasped in silent prayer.

After a moment, Pepper joins her, closing her eyes. It's both comforting and self-conscious at first, but she lets herself mentally recite her familiar and personal prayers, feeling them amplified by love, relaxing in the serenity. When she finishes, crosses herself and moves back to the pew, Pepper feels better.

A bell chimes; the small congregation gets up when the priest and acolyte enter, and the service begins.

000ooo000ooo000

Tony tries to relax, but he's trembling, and working hard to hide it. Memories are crowding in on him thick and fast, strong images he hasn't brought to mind in years, and the sensory input of St. Casmir's is amplifying them. Good memories mostly, but a few are painful.

Fortunately the simple rituals come back easily enough, and Tony finds himself comforted by the familiar actions that carry him through the service. The lessons are short and meaningful; the psalm rich with poetic beauty. Even the sermon, which is about the importance of taking time to appreciate the world we have, is to the point and delivered by a lean, wise-eyed priest with a low, melodious voice.

Tony drifts a bit, remembering Sundays in years past, sitting with his mother, going through catechism, being confirmed a lifetime ago. It's like a time machine, this odd hour on a Sunday morning, tinged with emotional sepia.

The call to confession comes, and hesitantly kneeling, Tony Stark does for the first time since his parents died, praying hard and fast; his mind reeling through the many, many years of sins and pain.

He feels a bloom of warmth within his chest when the priest gives absolution.

The collection plate goes by; Tony adds his donation along with Pepper and Aunt Ruby's, glad it's generous without being ostentatious. The priest gives a general welcome, glance flickering to Tony, but if he recognizes him, says nothing.

Then it's time for Communion.

Tony isn't sure he can; or that he even deserves to, but when it's time to stand, Aunt Ruby looks at him, her gaze warm and compassionate. He nods, and moves out of the pew, genuflecting, and the three of them go to the altar rail.

For a moment as the three of them kneel there together, Tony looks at Pepper at the rail; her serene expression and elegant profile make him blink hard.

Head bowed, Tony accepts the wafer and sips the wine, and for one moment in time finds grace for the man he was, is, and will be.

000ooo000ooo000

Later, as they pack their bags, Pepper walks from her room to his, and touches his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Tony looks at her, a soft smile crossing his face. "Yes. It's . . ." he turns fully from the suitcase on the bed and pulls Pepper into his arms. " . . . it's just been a long time since I've been in a church."

Pepper nods; in all the years she's worked for him, Tony has never attended any religious service as far as she knows. He'd even passed on Obadiah's funeral, showing up at the wake instead.

Tony sighs. "In fact, haven't gone to Mass since my parents died."

She hugs him, aware of the enormity of that. He hugs her back.

"I just . . . I'm not a good man, Pepper," he whispers in to her hair. "I probably never will be, for all my talk about right and wrong. I've screwed up so many things in life, most of them for my own ends, and even though I can *see* what needs to be changed, it's not as easy to do that as it would be to just keep fucking up."

Pepper gives a little laugh, the sound buried deep in his shoulder where her face is pressed. "Of course it would, but turning a reputation around doesn't happen overnight, and you're making the effort. That's what counts."

He pulls away, looking doubtful; Pepper cups his face and pulls him closer, rubbing her nose with his. "Tony, I'm going to tell you something I never thought I would. I pray for you. I do. Every time you get into that Suit and head out, I pray that you stay safe and alive and come back to me. It's selfish, I know, but I can't afford not to ask because I love you."

Tony blinks, hard. "Love *you.* Going to marry you, you know."

Her laugh is startled, tinged with tears. "Tony—" but he cuts her off with a good, deep kiss and sighs afterwards.

"I know, I know—in good time, not right now, I get it. But I do have this habit of getting my way, especially when I know it's for the right."

"That remains to be seen," Pepper warns him, but smiles just the same.

000ooo000ooo000

The goodbyes are quiet and heartfelt; Pepper can see that in Aunt Ruby's eyes, Tony is family now, and that feels both right and good. There are two grocery bags of Thanksgiving leftovers going back to Malibu with them, along with fresh eggs and a newly made batch of chocolate chip cookies. Pepper is sure the latter won't last as long as the plane ride, given Tony's propensity for them.

Aboard though, Tony is quiet; unusually so. At first Pepper frets that he's still melancholy about going to church, but when she brushes a hand across his forehead to move his bangs, the heat of his skin startles her. "Tony, you're burning up," she murmurs, concerned.

He blinks at her. "I'm just tired," Tony murmurs in a monotone.

"You're sick," Pepper announces, and sighs.

A sick Tony Stark is officially No Fun. In her time working for him, Pepper has seen her boss through hangovers, stomach flu, food poisoning, an earache and an impacted wisdom tooth, and every one of those incidents has been a battle of wills with Tony using every ploy from bullying to shameless manipulation to get out of her directives.

Tony Stark does not *like* being sick, and tends to deny it vehemently; a fact that drives Pepper up the wall.

"I'm taking your temperature," she murmurs, heading to the first aid locker in the jet.

"No."

"Don't make me get the rectal thermometer."

"You *would,* wouldn't you," he grumbles, not happy at all, but it's all the protest he puts up, and that worries Pepper.

The quick check with the ear thermometer reveals a fever of 101, and she feeds him some acetaminophen and apple juice. When Pepper suggests he stretch out in the cabin bedroom, Tony doesn't argue and lumbers off.

She hears him sneeze several times.

Pepper checks over his schedule; there are a few things that can be postponed and others that can be phoned in, so in a matter of twenty minutes she's cleared things so he can rest up at home for the next two days. She adds a grocery order and sends it to Jarvis so that she'll have the ingredients to make turkey soup when they get in.

The first thing Pepper does upon arriving home is to make Tony take a hot shower and bundle into bed. He agrees with dour reluctance, taking more juice before ambling off towards the bedroom.

Pepper makes her way to the game room and finds Dummy in sleep mode, and Rrrrrrr napping on the pool table in a pile of socks. There's a note pinned to the felt of the table: _Your cat needs more toys. Cute lil sucker, through—R_

She smiles. Rrrrrrr stretches and wanders over for petting, blinking her eyes happily. Pepper opens the door to let both occupants out. Rrrrrrr seems delighted at the freedom and skitters around. Pepper looks at Dummy. "Keep watch on her and don't let her climb anything, got it?"

Dummy whirrs in agreement and rolls off. Pepper makes her way to the kitchen, unpacks the delivered groceries as well as the leftovers, and begins to make soup, humming to herself. It's only when she sets the burner on simmer that Pepper realizes how tired she is herself, and frowns.

She *can't* be sick as well.

_No_, Pepper argues with herself. _Too much to do as it *is* with Tony out._

Then she remembers all the kissing and cuddling and other things they've . . . done, and flushes a little. _Great. Scent marked *and* infected._

Pepper pours orange juice and goes in search of acetaminophen.

000ooo000ooo000

Tony notes that Pepper is in her fluffy new bathrobe when she brings him a mug of soup just after twilight. He sits up, feeling the congestion in his head shift, making him a little dizzy. He snuffles. "Otay, you were right."

Pepper sneezes, catching it in the crook of her elbow, and the mug of soup jiggles but doesn't spill. Tony gives a tired laugh and reaches for it, setting it on the nightstand before taking Pepper's hand and pulling her to him. "You god it too, huh?"

She glares at him, her eyes watery as she curls up next to him. "Yeb. Thanks for sharing."

"Hey, *by* bodily fluids are *your* bodily fluids," he tells her, and reaches for a Kleenex, punctuating his comment with a juicy honk.

They lie there, sluggish, as the sun sets out on the Pacific. Pepper fishes for tissues and blows her own nose, sighing. "We deed steam."

Tony smiles.

000ooo000ooo000

The Jacuzzi bath in the master bathroom of the mansion is to decadent what Stark Industries are to missiles. Tony uses the bedside console to dial up the precise temperature, bath salts and music in quick dance of his fingers. Pepper watches as he slowly gets up and shuffles around to her side of the bed, holding out his hands.

"Ubby, ubby, Potts. We're gonna ged par-boiled."

Pepper lets him tug her up, grumbling when he gets her to her feet. She's dizzy, but allows him to led her off to the master bathroom. Once there, though, the humid vapors rising from the bubbling water definitely look inviting, and she begins to pull off her robe.

"Slow downd. I wanna watch!" Tony tells her, grinning. She sticks her tongue out at him and peels off her sweats with no artistic finesse. Tony is pretty utilitarian in his undressing too, although Pepper is amused with his moment of shyness when he covers his furry groin with his hands.

"You are *nod* modest," she chides him as she pins her hair up in a sloppy bun. Tony bats his eyes and poses demurely for a moment.

"I jus' don't wand to poke your eye ouwd."

That makes her laugh, and cough, and reach for more tissue. Pepper motions for him to get into the tub first, and Tony does, gingerly, settling in with a grimace that makes it clear the water is just a *tad* too hot for the Stark family jewels. Pepper laughs at that and goes down the steps carefully, sighing with pleasure at the sensation. She sinks into the water amazed at how much room there is in the tub.

Too much apparently for Tony; he scoots over to her, and pulls Pepper so her back is up against his arc reactor. "Mmmmmm."

"I'm not your personal flotation device," she tells him, words and head clearer now thanks to the steam.

Tony laughs. "Newsflash, Potts, you've been holding me up for years and we both know it. Mostly in a metaphorical sense, but of late . . ."

Pepper smiles; it feels good to get the acknowledgement, delivered with honesty and admiration. There are times when Tony can say just the right thing, and this is one of them.

"The bath was a good idea," she murmurs, "I do feel better."

"Me too," Tony replies, and there's a gentleness, a sense of comfort to his voice that warms her more than any hot water. "I should break out the flotilla of navy ships I have and we could stage a battle. More fun to fight against someone."

Pepper grins. "Navy ships?"

"Oh yeah. I had a box full back when I was a kid. It was one of the few bribes my mom used to get me clean, in fact. Destroyers, aircraft carriers, tankers, cruisers, you name it, I had it. When everything was in that tub, there wasn't too much room left for me."

She's charmed at the image of a little Tony bellybutton deep in sudsy water, making noises and bombing ships with soap. "And you won every battle?"

"Mostly they were massacres," Tony confesses with mock-sadness. "I restaged the Pearl Harbor invasion quite a lot."

"A bath that will live in infamy," Pepper replies in the same grave tone.

Tony's smirk is crooked. "Didn't *you* have any tub toys, Potts?"

"I . . ." she hesitates, because it's *so* embarrassing, and sharing embarrassing things has never come easily to her, certainly not with this man above all other people, but Tony is quiet, waiting for her to continue, so Pepper takes a breath and plunges on. "I played Weather Girl. I used to write on the tile wall with the bar of soap, and show all the cold fronts and low pressure systems and draw happy suns . . ."

Pepper trails off because although Tony is not making a sound, his shoulders are shaking with suppressed laughter, his dark eyes bright. She closes her own and sighs. "I knew I shouldn't have told you," comes her grumble.

"No, no, I think it's cute," Tony rushes in, still manfully holding back his mirth. "And when you had lots of bubbles did you predict snow?"

"Avalanches . . . which would never happen in Kiowa, since we don't have any mountains, but it didn't matter."

"And how many bars of soap did you wear down with these *dire* reports?" Tony wants to know, grinning.

Pepper finally smiles back. "Oh more than a few. I had to stop when my mother found the dried remains on the wall during her shower and got mad. 'That Ivory is for *you*, Ginnie girl, not the tiles!' she told me, and made me clean it all off."

They're both quiet a moment, and Tony rubs his cheek along her neck, hugging Pepper close.

"You can write on *our* walls anytime you want," he tells her in a whisper.


	6. Chapter 6

When the call comes, Tony is up and down to the workshop within ten minutes, washing down antihistamine with a glass of orange juice and protein powder, his nose still red. Pepper frets as he suits up, torn between protesting and staying quiet; not quite comfortable with either option.

This is nothing new, but she feels a stronger sense of unease welling up because things have been said, and deeds done; more is on the line now, and they both know it.

"Come on, kiss me goodbye, Snuggles, and save me some of that turkey soup for when I get back, because I'll probably *need* it," he rasps gently. Pepper hesitates, then tiptoes and pecks him lightly; Tony slips an arm around her waist, reels her in for a better kiss, lips to lips, and sighs afterwards.

"Just remember--if you die, I'll kill you," Pepper murmurs without rancor. Tony dimples for a moment, winks at her, and then the helmet pieces drop and lock around his face, encasing it. She steps back and he rockets off, following the curve of the garage tunnel and leaving behind the scent of ozone and stirred dust in his wake.

Pepper feels hollow. She blinks against the sting of tears, and wraps her arms around herself, thinking back to Tony's words of so long ago; his half-tease, half sincere private speech to her before the press conference.

_If I were Iron Man, I'd have this girlfriend who knew my real identity; she'd be a wreck, she'd always be worried I was gonna die but she'd be so proud of the man I've become . . ._

And they're true, all six of his statements are now fact, undeniable and not much comfort as Pepper stands forlornly in the garage, whispering prayers just under her breath.

*** *** ***

It's a long flight, and in a direction he isn't used to. Tony doesn't share the details with Pepper; she has enough to worry about when he leaves, but he does log the flight path and mission data with Jarvis as a permanent record of his actions. There's a tracking program downloaded with the AI too, in case Pepper ever wants to follow what Iron Man is doing, but so far she's never activated it.

Tony understands. Pepper is a gentle soul for the most part, unless someone she loves is in danger. Then she has the protective instincts of a lioness, and the courage to boot.

But she's not in love with Iron Man; only the core within his gaudy red and gold sarcophagus.

Only with Tony.

He understands that too, and is glad of it. Tony's already had a few fleeting encounters with Iron Man fans, and while he appreciates the enthusiastic support, some of their intensity disturbs him. They think nothing of encouraging him to kill, and in his pre-Afghanistan days he would have been smiling and supportive of that point of view.

Life was easier, Tony thinks, when he didn't know how the politics of warmongering really worked; when being a patriot above all else was all that mattered.

But life also, he admits to himself, wasn't nearly as rich then as it is now. It's harder; facing up to responsibilities. Tony still doesn't like doing it most of the time, but the consequences of denying accountability are not acceptable anymore.

And Pepper, Tony sighs happily, is his reward for growing the hell up.

*** *** ***

Pepper prepares beds. She lays down rocks and gravel; adds charcoal and a thin cover of cheesecloth before pouring bags of potting mix and soil into the big boxes along the windows of Paradiso. It's hard work; good work for keeping herself occupied, and she's glad she remembered the latex gloves. Getting dirt under her nails would be fine if she didn't have meetings scheduled with a few of the upper management of Stark Industries later in the week.

As she works, Pepper listens to old jazz coming from the amped Bosch radio Tony set up to pipe music through the greenhouse. The soft strains of Brubeck's 'Take Five' drift around her as Pepper hums along, still sniffling once in a while.

The tint on the windows cuts out a lot of the glare, but even so, the brightness of the day and rumble of her stomach remind her it's nearly noon, and time to quit. Pepper stretches and rubs her lower back, aching a little from the strain of working the tables. She peels off the gloves, steps over to the radio and turns it off, then flexes her fingers, glad of the work, glad of the chance to enjoy herself.

Aunt Ruby has given her a few seeds, and Pepper is excited to get them planted. Some small sugar pumpkins, some sweet onions, a handful of potato eyes and her ultra prized goldfinger carrots, a treasure Pepper knows is pretty much equivalent to a dowry. Normally she would store these until spring, but the thrill of a greenhouse is being able to have things out of season, and what better way to christen Paradiso than with a gift?

Too, there are the catalogs Tony has given her, smirking about names like Burpee, and Pepper has earmarked a few things she wants to try. She figures the first crops should be some tried and true standards; time after that to get to some experiments, but for now, all Pepper wants is that first happy yield.

It feels good to be planting, but she knows perfectly well there is plenty waiting for her at Stark Industries too, so Pepper goes inside, showers, dresses, and makes herself a grilled cheese sandwich.

At headquarters, the budgets for R & D are coming up, and Pepper grits her teeth, remembering how much of that work Obadiah used to do, and how much she'll have to pick up this time around. Tony still hasn't gotten around to looking at the board recommendations for the former CFO's replacement, and the list of candidates is still sitting on his desk. She picks it up and glances at them, putting faces to the names. Jody Halloran, formerly of the Defense department, a good woman with numbers and an inside knowledge of weaponry; Peter LaMarr, former Lockheed CFO with an impressive resume in bringing projects in under budget, and Xochitiotzith Perez, Director in chief of Dynamic Aeronautics . . .

The last name makes Pepper draw in a breath, and she stares unseeing at the paper, remembering a tiny, vivacious woman with dark exotic eyes. The last time she'd seen Xochi Perez, Pepper had nearly walked in on her and Obadiah locked in a clinch in his office a few days after Tony had come back from Afghanistan.

The thought that Obadiah had *any* sort of a personal life had been startling enough; to think of him involved romantically seemed bizarre. Pepper had slipped away then to give them privacy, and debated mentioning the affair to Tony but events unfolded too quickly after that to matter, and with Obadiah gone now—

Still, Pepper wonders if Xochi has some sort of agenda, and sends a terse message to HR to have a full background check run on the woman. Pepper doesn't want to disqualify her on the basis of her former association with Obadiah, but it would be helpful to have more information.

She sets up final interviews with the other two, and looks over Tony's schedule, wincing when she sees the GQ annual fashion shoot coming up in three days. _Gentleman's Quarterly_ has featured Tony Stark as part of their Year in Review Icons of Style for the last four years, and Pepper detests how all the credit for Tony's meticulous public wardrobe consistently goes to him rather than to the people it rightfully belongs to: namely his tailor, Mr. Chan, and his buyer, Pepper Potts.

Pepper also detests the simpering young female models who pose and flirt and generally bed Tony after these shoots. She wonders how he'll deal with them this time, and while part of her is annoyed, another part is genuinely curious. Giving a sigh, Pepper makes a note to call Mr. Chan and go over the selections for this year's photos.

*** *** ***

Tony is worried about his testicles.

It's a legitimate concern, even in the Suit, particularly at these radiation levels, and even though Jarvis is monitoring the situation, Tony isn't really happy.

The facility's lead shielding is faulty; even he can see that, and the UN inspectors and scientists are hiding their terror fairly well. Considering Tony is trying to rescue them, that's probably a good thing; hysterics would be very distracting right now, since there are already terrorists to deal with, and guns.

Still, it's not the bullets that bother Tony, it's the rems, and at last count it was 11—not dangerous, but not terrific either. He's put three armed thugs out of commission and is finishing up with the last one, hurrying because the North Korean troops are going to be moving in, and he doesn't want to get shot at by *them* as well.

After the corridor is cleared, he tells the trapped group to get out; get moving to the surface and let the authorities there check them over. Most of them don't need to be told twice; the exodus renews his faith that most people DO want to survive. Tony herds the last of them out, and once he's on the surface, he rockets up, clearing the cold, empty ground of the nuclear test facility with ease.

"The vehicle with the last of the terrorists is moving north by northeast two miles away," Jarvis tells Tony, and that's all he needs to hear. Iron Man shifts in the sky, moving with glittering accuracy towards the speeding truck kicking up dust along the narrow overgrown road. Tony lets the targeting eyepiece focus on the truck's rear tire just as Jarvis speaks up again.

"Your opponents have an RPG."

The rushing missile grows from a small silver looking ball to a lethal tube in seconds, and Tony dodges, cursing a bit under his breath and snuffling because his nose is running, and he can't do a damned thing about it at the moment.

He lifts one hand, bracing himself with the other repulsors, and neatly blasts a forearm rocket into the back tire of the truck. It disintegrates in a dark cloud of shredded rubber and the truck veers back and forth, losing speed, finally driving off the road and into a ditch below. Tony knows a truck full of KPA Ground Force are on the way to pick up the shaken terrorists, and figures it's time to move before Kim Jong Il's Air Force catches up to him.

Tony makes one quick pass over the wrecked truck, and turns, speaking softly. "All right, what about the UN team?"

"Preliminary assessment is that they are all well, except for minor radiation exposure which will pass in a few days," come the urbane voice," As will your own, which thanks to your armor is considerably less."

"Still would be worth lining the codpiece with some lead," Tony grumbles, wishing he could blow his nose. "Are we good here?"

"There are two MiG-29s on an intercept course for us, sir; I suggest we accelerate and return home."

"So let's do it," Tony agrees, and braces himself, wrists flexed, feet together before becoming a red and gold streak in the sky.

An hour later, having made it free of radar and escorts, Tony speaks up again as he flies over the dull green-grey of the Pacific. "So I'm not sterile."

"Statistically it is unlikely, although you may wish to conduct an examination of your semen under a microscope within the next few hours," Jarvis tells him serenely.

"Yeah," Tony mumbles. "Fun, fun." There's silence for a few more miles and Jarvis speaks up again.

"Query."

"Go ahead."

"Given the degree to which you employ prophylactic measures to prevent conception, why are you concerned about your fertility?"

"That's a pretty personal question," Tony evades, startled by the nosiness of his AI. "I think the bigger question is why do *you* want to know?"

"All information is useful when a context is found," Jarvis replies. "And given that I am still gathering data on the human social interaction loosely defined as a 'relationship' between you and Miss Potts, any further explanation of behavior is enlightening."

"And entertaining, I'm sure," Tony grumbles, embarrassed.

"I assure you sir, nothing amuses me."

"Sure. Okay, facts of the matter are that I'm picky about who I mate with--"

"—Incorrect," Jarvis interrupts with a hint of smugness. "The listing of your past coital partners is well into double digits, suggesting a biological nonchalance bordering on stupi—"

"—I've *changed!*" Tony hisses, red in the face under his mask. "Maybe the better phrase would be 'I'm picky who I BREED with."

Jarvis is silent for a moment, and Tony senses doubt. He growls, deciding the best defense is a good offense. "Sex is biologically for procreation, a fact I'm sure you're well aware of. But there's also a pleasure component to it that makes it desirable to most humans on a pretty constant basis. Since filling the world with my offspring would be a colossally bad idea for ohhh*so*many reasons, I employ contraception to prevent the former and promote the latter."

"And yet, you are concerned about your fertility," Jarvis points out. "Is this because you are considering offspring at some future date?"

Tony is silent for a long moment, and when he speaks, his voice is monotone. "Not really. I just prefer to be able to have the option."

"With Miss Potts?"

"Look, can we talk about something *else* right now? This is . . . not a topic I'm comfortable with," Tony sighs. He really, really wants to blow his nose, and not think about offspring of any sort; the memories are too painful.

"We are within forty minutes ETA," Jarvis announces gently, and stays silent for the rest of the trip.

*** *** ***

Pepper isn't there when he gets in, but she calls, her voice warm and reassuring as Tony climbs out of the dismantled suit and uses three tissues to empty his nose.

"You sound like a flock of Canadian geese," comes her tease from the house speakers.

"Blame it on the shift of pressure inside the Suit," he grumbles, scooping up Rrrrrrr from the worktable and petting her. The kitten settles down in the crook of his arm, a deep purr rumbling out as Tony carries her with him through the glass doors and up the stairs. "Where are you and when are you coming home?"

He wanders into the kitchen and pulls open the fridge, reaching for a container.

"I'm on my way, and you had better *not* be drinking that orange juice out of the carton, Anthony Stark. Heat up some soup, and I'll bring some bread from the Bouncy Bakery. We need to look over your wardrobe."

"What for?" Tony asks, guiltily putting the OJ back into the fridge, and wondering if Jarvis is doing a surreptitious live feed from the kitchen to Pepper's BlackBerry.

"For your upcoming GQ fashion shoot of course," Pepper sighs. "Mr. Chan and I need to make you look *so* five minutes into the future. Again."

Tony doesn't answer as he sneaks a slice of pumpkin pie out from the leftovers.

*** *** ***

One soup dinner and pie dessert later, Tony is stretched out on the sofa, head in Pepper's lap as she absently strokes his hair and scrolls through Tony's wardrobe via the laptop resting on his stomach. "The St. Laurent three-piece, definitely," Pepper murmurs. "You look very nice in that."

"Mmm," Tony murmurs drowsily. "Okay."

"And maybe the Manfred Jones," Pepper continues. "That knit polo is dark enough to hide your arc."

"Crap, I forgot about that," Tony sighs. "It's going to show up in a few shots, isn't it?"

"Yep. However, if we get Wally to do the shoot . . ." Pepper suggested.

Tony nods, the weight of his head shifting in her lap and tickling. "Wally. We could trust him, and he'd be able to airbrush the arc out of any shots he wanted. Hmmmmm." Tony turns his face and rubs his nose along Pepper's flat belly, his words slightly muffled. "This means no models though."

"Oh darn."

"Try not to let any sympathy get in the way there," Tony laughs softly, now tugging her shirt up to lick her skin. Pepper shivers and tries to push him away, but Tony uses one hand to set the laptop on the coffeetable and the other to slip around Pepper's waist as he continues to rub his goatee on her stomach. "You smell nice."

"And you are *tickling* me," Pepper squirms, caught between the back of the sofa and Tony's warm weight. "If you blow your nose on me, I swear---"

"I'd never do that," he promises, and plants little kisses all around her belly button, rolling towards her and working on undoing the zipper of her skirt. Bit by bit Tony manages to debrief Pepper amid threats and squirming and little gasps of pleasure.

They make their way to the bedroom and the loving is slow and intense; Tony keeps Pepper right on the edge of coming, lost in the sight of her so erotically beautiful as she writhes against the sheets under him. She finally pulls him to her, nails biting along the back of his ribs and he groans, coming hard and deep as he holds her.

In the darkness, later, Tony curls up behind Pepper, whispering softly. "You love me, right?"

"Yep," comes her sleepy, satisfied sigh.

"Even if—" he tries to hypothesize, but Pepper rolls over to kiss him, pulling his head to rest on her bare chest.

"Tony, even if you were a cross-dressing ax murderer from the planet Remulak I'd love you, insane as that is."

He smiles against her skin. "You sit around thinking those up, don't you?"

"Yes. I have nothing else to do all day while you're gone."

"Do you want kids?" Tony blurts in his blunt, out-of-left field manner. In his arms, Pepper stirs, raises herself up on one elbow and brushes her hair from her face.

"Why? Are you pregnant?" she murmurs, trying to defuse the jumpy panic his question sparks in her. This isn't something they've discussed yet. Oh it's been touched on in passing, mostly in terms of the condoms, but really, it's not a discussed *discussed* issue.

Yet.

"No, but I got a tiny bit irradiated today and that sort of set off a bit of a philosophical discussion with Jarvis--"

"Whoa, back up—you got *irradiated?*" Pepper gasps.

Tony shakes his head and lays a finger on her lips. "Way, waaaay under danger levels. I would never have put you at risk if it had been anything else, okay? And it got me to thinking about you know . . . kids."

"Tony . . ." Pepper sighs, sitting up now, pulling the sheet around her. "I don't think now is the right time to think about anything this . . . big."

"You know, you're right," he replies thoughtfully, "we'll just table this discussion for . . . oh, a year."

"Two," Pepper interjects; Tony nods quickly.

"Three, even; no rush."

"Three is good," Pepper agrees, biting her lips. "A thirty-six month moratorium sounds about right."

Neither of them say anything, both of them looking straight ahead.

Finally Tony speaks up. "You're as terrified by the prospect as I am, aren't you?"

"More," Pepper assures him, nodding. "A lot more."

"Yeah, I get that," he mutters. "Look, I'm sorry I brought it up. I guess I just realized our current birth control isn't quite as . . . secure . . . as it could be."

Pepper scoots back down under the sheet and wraps her arms around Tony. "I'll set up an appointment with Doctor Phair and see what she can offer me."

"Us," Tony corrects, and relaxes a bit. Pepper finally drops off to sleep after a while, but Tony lies awake,

--Remembering.


	7. Chapter 7

Wallace Haverstock is a tall, thin and curly-haired Englishman with a wickedly dry sense of humor and an impeccable eye for photography. He'd started at a news photographer and moved from that to fashion and portraiture, gaining an international reputation for striking work; consequently, he is often in demand, but was now free to choose his projects.

At sixty-three he is a quiet figure in rolled-up sleeves and dark slacks, and the woman who carries his camera equipment and hands him things clearly adores him. Pepper notes they wear matching wedding rings and smiles; their age difference has to be thirty years or more, but it doesn't seem to matter, given the quiet tenderness between them.

"Tony, you're looking well. I'd followed the official story about your captivity in Afghanistan with some *serious* concerns." Wally murmurs, coming into the living room and eyeing the light through the windows absently.

"I'm good, Wally, although there are some . . . extenuating factors about today's shoot that you need to know about," Tony tells him, looking serious. This in turn makes Wally look serious, and he glances at his wife.

"Indeed?"

"Yeah, as in non-disclosure forms, Wally. I hate to do that, but it's essential."

One of Wally's eyebrows goes up, but he takes a deep breath and nods. "Very well. Lydia and I are more than willing to sign. What's this all about?"

After the forms are notarized by Pepper, Tony gives a deep sigh, and unbuttons his shirt. The arc glows; the Haverstocks are slightly stunned.

"Good God, Stark—you look like a Tucker Sedan!"

"Oh very funny," Tony mutters, a tiny bit amused at the comparison; it's a car joke, and that helps.

Wally studies the arc critically. "So the glow is constant? What's the ampage?"

Tony beckons the photographer over and they both peer down at it. Lydia shoots Pepper a bemused glance. The story of the arc comes out with a few questions, and afterwards, Wally cocks his head, staring at it.

"We can airbrush it out," he nods, "Take the depth shadows out of the shots and keep your magic battery out of the public eye. It's . . . it's an incredible achievement, Tony, and I've never doubted your genius, but I think you've rather surpassed yourself this time."

"I have my moments," Tony shrugs modestly, "But this brings us to another problem, namely the um, *other* aspect of these shoots—"

"The crumpets," Wally smiles. "Yes indeed, I did wonder why we didn't have company this morning. Rumor has it you've changed a bit since your kidnapping; gotten more . . ." Wally trails off, looking for the right word.

Pepper fills it in. "Mature." She shoots Tony a quick proud look that makes him blink a little.

Wally smiles gently. "Indeed. Well, given the nature of what you've done for GQ in the past, it stands to reason that we truly should have at least one female model to work with. After all, the clothes-buying public still consider you to be the ultimate playboy, and sex does sell the merchandise. However, given this little complication---" he glances at the arc and purses his mouth "We may have to call on our immediate resources."

Tony turns and waggles his eyebrows at Pepper, who realizes a moment too late what that implies. She stiffens and takes a step back. "Oh no, not me!"

"Okay then, but that would leave Mrs. Haverstock—"

Wally's shaggy white eyebrows go up. "I hardly think *that's* a viable course, Tony. I need Lydia to help set up the lights and handle the technical details of the shoot; she'll be *far* too busy to romp with you in *any* capacity."

"Romp?" Tony mutters, a grin lighting up his face. Lydia, who still has not spoken, rolls her eyes. Pepper looks slightly panicked.

"But I haven't . . . I'm not professional . . ."

"You have natural poise and cheekbones to die for, as the saying goes. I consider your ability to . . . wrangle . . . Tony Stark a decided plus," Wally tells her, adding, "What I have in mind will hide your identity, Pepper, so you don't need to be concerned on that front."

"How are you going to do *that?*" she wryly asks, still highly reluctant, but curious too.

Wally smiles. "There are ways, my dear. And remember—nothing will ever be published without the approval of the both of you. You have complete control."

Pepper wants to close her eyes; Tony has the quivering look of a hopeful puppy, and although it's not being said directly, she's well aware that saying no will throw off the entire shoot. She's too responsible a person to do that, while at the same time, her sense of exasperation is rising a bit.

Then Tony completely disarms her. "We can always pass on it, Pepper. I don't owe GQ anything, and it's just a PR stunt."

"I . . ." she sighs, "I'll do it."

*** *** ***

The photo spread for the December/January issue ends up selling *very* well, and the resulting numbers mean a bonus for the Haverstocks, and Tony's name being bantered about on the social scene in a way that hasn't happened in a few years. Pepper keeps an issue for sentimental reasons, blushing at the memory, but tucking it away in her files, along with the proofs and the file of unused shots.

Tony is more boisterous, and has his favorite shot blown up and framed, hanging it in his private executive washroom at Stark Industries.

There are seven photos in all, each of them an interesting presentation and full of intrigue, humor and of course, style.

The first photo is in Tony's bedroom. He is stretched out seemingly asleep on his stomach, barely covered with a sheet, one muscled arm dangling down towards the carpet, a handcuff on his wrist. The neatly laid out David Marcus slacks and coordinating polo shirt are draped elegantly over the end of the bed, and sitting next to the ensemble is a woman in full French mime makeup, texting on a cell phone. Her curly blonde hair, white pancake makeup and sweet crimson lips; her beret, striped shirt and long black leggings make an amusing contrast to the understated elegance of the bedroom.

The second photo is of Tony in a business suit of charcoal with black shirt and black silk tie, the bold ensemble especially striking given his natural coloring. He is standing in front of a desk, a business report in one hand and an ink and blood-stained polo mallet in the other. There are two bare feminine arms coming around his torso, one hand adjusting his tie and the other toying with the zipper of his fly. Tony looks both smug and salacious.

The third is of Tony standing at a fish scale on a pier, proudly displaying his prize catch. He's decked out in sunglasses, a green and gold Island Bango Hawai'ian shirt and white khakis, complete with suede loafers. Hanging upside down next to him is a beautiful mermaid, long red hair nearly touching the pier, her hands crossed protectively over her bare breasts. She's wearing sunglasses as well.

The fourth photo is Tony's favorite, It's a simple one shot in black and white, with the woman's face hidden in shadow. He's in a Mont Noir tuxedo and so is she, the lines beautifully cut on both, her shirt unbuttoned, bow tie dangling, to reveal an expanse of collarbone and long sleek neck. He is nuzzling that neck, the edge of his goatee brushing it as one of her hands rakes through his dark hair. The camera has caught his half-closed eyes, and look of intimate pleasure, as well as the red rose dangling in her other hand.

The fifth is Tony Stark staring down the length of an extended dueling epee, dark gaze merciless as the point of his sword presses into a gun-wielding stuffed platypus sitting behind the wheel of a Ferrari. Tony is outfitted in a Blanco Torido lightweight cream linen suit with red and gold tie. Trussed up in the passenger seat of the car, is a blindfolded brunette in a Waffle World waitress uniform.

The sixth photo shows a wedding cake in the foreground, a frosted creation with six tiers and at the top, two small robots on it, claws linked. Tony is standing off to the side, champagne in one hand, his expression thoughtfully amused as he toasts the happy couple. His Malinbois formalwear is dark wool with a watered silk cummerbund of burgundy complete with matching tie. A robot in a lace veil has a knife and is preparing to slice the cake, while on the other side, a mysterious woman in a bridesmaid dress is lighting a stick of dynamite.

The seventh photo has Tony stretched out on a chaise lounge by poolside, his Nasite striped cashmere sweater and Manfred slacks looking nice against the canvas of the chair. Resting on one of his shoulders is a long, bare woman's leg, foot in an exotic gold sandal. Tony is nipping one of the straps, his hands caressing the leg playfully, his intentions clear. Out against the horizon of the Pacific, the sun is a brilliant purple, setting into a sea of bright orange.

*** *** ***

Shopping for Tony Stark is . . . difficult, Pepper realizes. She's never had to buy him anything *personal* before, and this complicates matters. Tony has always been the sort to go out and get whatever he wants or needs, so trying to find something he's denied himself is next to impossible.

Still, there are things that she knows will put some comfort and beauty into his life, so she sets about trying to surprise him, consulting with Jarvis and Rhodey and even Happy to pick up what clues she can. All three are a wealth of information, and Pepper is by turns amused and appalled with their replies, which are fairly frank.

One thing has been on her mind, though. Something Tony has not-so-subtly pushed for, and that is for her to move in. Pepper has resisted, citing one reason or another, but her reluctance is crumbling in the face of the truth. The mansion feels more like home to her now than her apartment does. She has more plants at the mansion, and has—subtly—rearranged the kitchen there.

But it's still a big commitment, and her cautious little soul still longs for the security of a place not stamped with Tony's personality in every corner. On a whim, she asks Jarvis a question.

"What does Tony do when I leave?"

"Precisely, or in a general sense?" comes the return query. Pepper sighs at the AI's literal-mindedness.

"Generally," Pepper requests, her attention on her laptop. Tony is currently in Pasadena at a state-of-the-art engineering conference that she knows full well would bore her to tears. He's probably having the time of his life, and out of her hair for the moment.

"He wanders around for a while, talking to himself in self-pitying tones, then either takes on intricate modifications to the Iron Man suit, or dismantles one of the automobiles in the garage. When he has sufficiently tired himself out, he takes the pillow from your side of the bed and sleeps with it either in the workshop or in the greenhouse," Jarvis tells her.

Pepper looks up, startled. "You're kidding."

"I do not have that capacity, although I am gaining some credible forays into irony," Jarvis replies in smooth tones.

"He sleeps in the garage?"

"On Sunday nights always; it is his consistent pattern. He complains that it is difficult to sleep without your presence, and that the constant readjustment is . . . annoying."

Pepper fights a grin; chances are very good that Jarvis is modifying Tony's actual comments to spare her feelings. She closes a few windows on the laptop and looks up, towards the ceiling. "Jarvis . . . how would Tony react if I were to . . . move in?"

"Favorably. Your presence here has a calming and stabilizing influence on Tony, as evidenced by your many years of association with him. The further development of your personal relationship has brought forth a deeper trust and respect for you as well. While Tony is undeniably brilliant, he is prone to all the uncertainties, doubts and fears of a human man, and your presence does much to reassure him that he is worth loving."

This elegant little speech makes Pepper blink; she purses her lips, not sure whether to laugh or cry a little. Finally she clears her throat. "Is that your way of influencing me?"

"Yes," Jarvis without guile. "One of my primary functions is to optimize Tony Stark's life, and currently you are the most beneficial factor in it, Miss Potts. You give him a clear reason to continue his missions and to return from them. Never underestimate how devoted he is to you."

Tears are threatening now; it's one thing to know Tony loves her, and quite another to hear it from a source as dispassionate at Jarvis. She shuts down the laptop and rises, sniffling a bit. "So you think it would be a good idea for me to . . . come live here?"

"Indeed," Jarvis assures her, "It would be an honor to have you in residence, Miss Potts. I would be delighted to help you make the transition smoothly and quickly at any point you choose to join the household."

"Thank you," Pepper tells him. "I think it would be nice to be asked, first, though. Formally, you know."

"That would be wise," Jarvis agrees. "And since Tony prefers to believe that *he* is the source of excellent ideas, and the matter will flow more smoothly if I arrange so that he believes that of this one. Allow me to suggest an appropriate setting and wardrobe."

Pepper laughs, wiping her eyes. "How . . . devious of you, Jarvis."

"Deviousness is not in my programming, Miss Potts, but my learning curve regarding Mr. Stark's personality *does* reach parabolic diameters at times."

*** *** ***

Happy drops Tony off, nodding at the overflow of chatter from the back seat, glad to see that whatever the conference was about, Tony is in a good mood. Tony is going on and on about microcircuits, shift-phase engineering and a slew of other topics that nobody but Jarvis would understand. He waves Happy off and carries his own suitcase in, calling out greetings and wondering why the lights are so dim.

When he reaches the living room, he drops his suitcase, stunned, since it's now clear that Pepper *is* here, and is welcoming him home. She is lounging on the sofa—slightly self-consciously—in the tiny Victoria's Secret pale pink satin bra and panty set with matching garter belt, white stockings and six inch Lucite heel stilettos.

"Holy crap!" Tony blurts, swaying a little.

"Hi," Pepper murmurs, and rises, stretching in a glorious move that would normally make her feel extremely self-conscious. The fact that Tony hasn't blinked yet is giving her confidence a boost though, and she slowly saunters towards him, the stilettos tapping lightly on the stone floor. "Good trip?"

"Huh?" is all he coherently gets out before reaching for her and pulling her into his arms. Pepper breaks the sensual mood of the firelight, lingerie and seduction by breaking into giggles. Oddly, this only makes Tony more enthralled, and he kisses her, letting her splutter against his mouth for a few moments until mutual desire refocuses her attention to him.

"You know you're not going anywhere for the next two—make that three days," he informs her in a low, no-nonsense voice. "except over the couch, or on the bed, or maybe on the kitchen table if we're making a snack run. God you look exceedingly hot. Bed. Now."

"Missed me?" she asks, licking his ear and making Tony shiver. He shoots her an impatient sidelong look as his hands stroke her hips, pulling Pepper up against his body.

"Very much. Making up for lost time starting now," Tony assures her. "Are we good with this? And please say yes; it's not nice to make a grown man cry."

"I don't want you to cry," Pepper whispers to him. "I just want you on your knees."

The groan he makes is intensely satisfying to Pepper; a low hungry, helpless sound, deeply masculine, slightly frustrated and very Tony. He moves forward, forcing Pepper to back up the steps until she bumps into the grand piano, the cool lacquer against the small of her back.

Tony gracefully drops to his knees in front of her, fingers hooking into the hips of her panties, tugging them down until they slide to her knees. Pepper sucks in a surprised breath as a surge of arousal jolts through her entire frame. So hard, so fast--she looks down; Tony looks up at her, his gaze dark with lust, his hands stroking her thighs. "How perfect is this? And I tell myself, absolutely. Oh let me *kiss* you, Miss Potts."

Pepper grips the piano behind her and nods, whimpering a little herself as Tony's mouth lightly brushes her curls, his hot breath making her nipples tighten almost painfully. He nuzzles, lips moving gently, sensually against her cleft, and the sudden flick of his tongue circling the stiff bud of her clitoris has her clenching hard, trembling to stay standing. Tony tugs the panties off, lifts one of her legs, and drapes it over his shoulder to give her support and allow him better access to her honeyed muff.

And oh, how he kisses her.

She can't count how many times she peaks, rising from one shuddering climax to another, softer slower one, but it seems to go on and on. Pepper cries out, whimpers and groans, begs and finally reaches a hand to his hair, tugging it, her body limp and unable to take anymore of the maddeningly intense torment. He rises up, unsteady himself, and looks at her with a desire so intense it damned near burns.

Pepper speaks, her words slightly rushed. "Condom?"

His tormented gaze is answer enough, and she reaches for his fly, undoing it, tugging Tony's pants and boxers down, caressing his warm, throbbing shaft in her hands. "Good thing *I* have one then, isn't it?"

She fishes in her bra and pulls out a condom, unwrapping it quickly. Tony takes it from her, rolling it on with remarkable speed, tossing the wrapper aside as he shifts, pressing against her, slipping into her with a low growl of pleasure. "Ever thought of changing your last name to Stark?"

"What?" Pepper asks, dazed, but Tony is sliding one hand under her knee and pinning her hard against the side of the piano now, slick and strong, thrusting into her, his mouth against her throat.

"Loveyou,yeahohhhGodyeahsofuckingHOTunnnnnghhh," he growls, his words indistinct but his lust enthusiastic. He kisses her, and Pepper can taste herself on his mouth.

She pulls back a moment, her voice soft. "I love you, Tony."

He comes, hard and shuddering against her body, muscles tight, face buried against Pepper's shoulder, arms locked around her.

When he can breathe, Tony pulls up his pants, manages to guide her to the sofa and they collapse on it together. He cups her face in his hands, looking at her intently. "You're staying. You can't give me this sort of a welcome home and not expect me to want you here whenever I get back, Pepper. It doesn't have to be this sensual every time, but it gets harder and harder to see you go, and I really, really want you here, I want you to *want* to be here. Please, move in."

Pepper smiles, and nods.

Tony gives a huge sigh of relief, kisses her hard, and flops back against the sofa, pulling her to him. He and Pepper stay that way for a few hours.


	8. Chapter 8

"You're kidding. She's really doing it?" Rhodey hoots, still not convinced. He and Tony are slamming their way through a vicious game of air hockey in the game room, both of them aggressively hunched over their ends of the table, neither taking their eyes off the puck, which is zinging over the surface. Tony gets a terrific ricochet off and the puck clatters into the goal slot between Rhodey's hands. He scowls and fishes it out of the table pocket, setting it back on the table.

"That's right. He shoots, he scores, both here and in life," Tony gloats. "Tell me you're not jealous as hell."

"I don't deny you're one lucky bastard," Rhodey grudgingly agrees, "And a damn cheat at air hockey. To be honest, I didn't think she'd agree. Pepper's always been . . . independent."

"I do *not* cheat; I have reflexes like a puma," Tony announces, batting away a few hard shots. "She still is. She's just going to be independent over here instead of across town."

"Right," Rhodey snorts, and manages a backhand zing that sends the puck past Tony's overextended reach and into the goal slot with a satisfying 'clunk.' Tony sourly pulls the plastic disc out and sets it back on the table, tapping it lightly before giving it a hard slam.

"Scoff all you want, Platypus; I've got my love to keep me warm," Tony gloats.

That makes Rhodey laugh out loud. "Never thought I'd see the day when Mr. Perpetual One-Night-Stand settled down. Isn't that one of the signs of the Apocalypse or something?"

"No, but *this* is," Tony growls, managing a dizzying cross-table bank shot that zips into his opponent's goal slot with a hard, defiant rattle. He straightens up, hands out in an appeasing gesture. "Come on; be happy for me, okay? I'm serious about this."

Rhodey sighs, and pushes himself up from the table, his smile slightly wry. "I am. You're two good people who are . . . good for each other. Maybe I *am* just jealous."

"Really?" Tony blinks.

Rhodey gives a little shrug. "Sure. You've known Pepper for years. Hell, you probably were half in love with her the whole time and just didn't know it. Me, I'm not exactly in a situation where I can meet anyone, let alone fall in love."

"There are women in the Air Force," Tony points out. "Last time I looked, anyway."

"True, but most of them are either on a career track, or already married or . . ." Rhodey trails off diplomatically. "I can get laid, all right. But meeting someone for more than that? Not exactly easy. Hey, this is depressing me, so let's talk about something else, okay?"

"Sure. I need you to sit in on a meeting on Tuesday," Tony announces. "There's a little company I picked up on an acquisitions buyout that needs some inspiration."

"What do you need *me* for then?" Rhodey asked suspiciously. "I'm a pilot, not a captain of industry."

"Because it's a toy company, and they make model planes, Bird Man. Might be nice if they talked to a real live airman about it," comes Tony's reply. "Come on, it's an hour out of your day, and you might get a shot at being an action figure, like me."

Rhodey laughs. "Listen, I've *seen* your action figure and you look like Snidely Whiplash, dude. If I were you, I'd sue the model maker."

Tony rolls his eyes, grudgingly conceding the point. "They're redoing it."

"Good thing, too. It's not nice to have little kids laughing at you," Rhodey snorts. "Tuesday? What time?"

"Around nine, board room. Make nice and I'll be sure to comp you for the time, sourpuss."

"Yeah, okay," Rhodey agrees. "Might as well. What's the name of the company?"

"Zody. Zody and Sons, I think. Pepper would know for sure. Staying for lunch?"

"Can't," Rhodey sighs regretfully. "I'm needed at a top brass briefing in an hour. Something about restructured fly zones. But I'll be there Tuesday and we can grab some Won Ton William if you want after that."

"Deal," Tony smiles. "We'll stop in, check out the waitresses and see if any of them look good to you."

*** *** ***

Tony steels himself before stepping into Pepper's office. They have an appointment with Doctor Phair in a few days, and he's well aware of what that will entail. Pepper knows a lot about Tony; more than most people and he's glad of that now.

But she doesn't know everything.

It's not exactly something he's been keeping from her; if she wanted to know, she has access to Sam McGauran and all of the files. Pepper has always had clearance with all of his lawyers, and most of them already have a good working relationship with Pepper. She knows the ones who deal with publicity issues, and corporate legal affairs and even old Charlie Cavanaugh, who is in charge of Tony's estate and will.

But Tony doesn't want Pepper to find out about Sam McGauran's work in Phair's office, so he slips in quietly, waiting for Pepper to look up from her laptop and smile at him. "Tony," she murmurs, then takes a second look at his troubled expression. "Is . . . something wrong?"

"Pepper," he comes around her side of the desk and squats down, working hard to make the both of them at equal level. Puzzled, she meets his gaze, her own a little worried now. Tony takes one of her hands. "You need to know something. Something about me from before you came to work for me."

"O-kay," she replies, a little crease drawing up between her brows.

Tony draws in a deep breath. "Damn this is hard. Okay, once upon a time, before I understood about consequences, I had a one-night stand with a woman."

Pepper fights a dry expression; Tony's grip on hers tightens and he continues. "And . . . she got pregnant. *I* got her pregnant."

"Oh," Pepper murmurs. She hasn't moved, but her eyes widen, and Tony can see her pulse speed up a little along her slender throat.

He swallows hard, continuing slowly. "When she told me, I went to Sam McGauran, who told me to have her take a paternity test. It verified that the baby was mine. Understandably, I was . . . freaked out, for a while. I didn't love this woman, but at the same time, I wasn't going to deny fathering the baby."

"What . . . happened?" Pepper asks, fascinated, her voice barely a whisper. Tony closes his eyes.

"I told Sam to set up a trust fund. That I would support the child if she chose to have it."

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Tony is struck by how incredibly vulnerable Pepper looks; how young and defenseless. He wants to pull her into his arms, to kiss and reassure her, but something inside him knows it would be the absolutely wrong thing to do, so he stays still.

"So . . . you have . . . a child?" Pepper whispers.

Tony shakes his head. "No. I almost did. She miscarried at two months. I took care of her hospital bills, and I told Sam to keep the trust fund arrangements in case . . . in case any *other* paternity test ever turned out positive. Since then I've been very careful, and you know the rest of it, which I'm not proud of, but . . . ."

"Did . . ." Pepper hesitates, then pushes on, her voice getting stronger. "Did you suggest an abortion to her?"

Tony blinks. "God, I thought about it, believe me; It was not my most shining moment, Potts and I freely admit that. But for all the shit I've ever pulled, that was just one area I've never felt I could tell anyone else what to do. I wanted *her* to suggest it."

"But . . . she didn't," Pepper finishes.

Tony shakes his head bleakly. "No. And that's the only semi-honorable thing on my part about the whole incident, I guess—that *I* never brought up that option. It's not much, but at least I was willing to make good on something I was responsible for."

"Would you," Pepper locks gazes with him, her expression a bit harder now, "have publicly acknowledged the baby as yours? Allowed it to have your last name?"

"Yes," Tony replies without hesitation. "I would have."

Pepper stares at him a moment longer, her mouth trembling. "Yes," she nods slowly. "You would have."

Very carefully she rises from the desk; Tony doesn't move, staying in a crouch and looking up at her. They stay that way for a long, long moment.

"Thank you," Pepper whispers, "For telling me. I need to be alone for a while now, Tony."

He gets up uncertainly, heart thudding in a sickening beat in his chest. Tony wants so damned badly for Pepper to put her arms around him and say it's okay; that it's all in the past and it doesn't matter.

But he knows it does.

"Pepper—"

She shakes her head almost violently. "No. I just need you to leave. I'll see you for the Parkman meeting. Please, Tony--"

He rises, fights the urge to touch her, and turns. As he steps out the door and closes it, Tony hears her begin to cry, softly.

His hands curl into fists, and he thinks of the bottles in his office, lined up on the bar there, gathering dust because he's been good about not drinking at work these days, but the temptation throbs in him.

Throbs.

Tony bites his lower lip until he can taste hot copper, and goes to the engineering labs instead.

*** *** ***

"Yeah, sure, I can tell you about it," comes Sam McGauran's low rumbly voice over the phone. "Tony mentioned you might want the facts, so I pulled the file. Girl was selling cigars at the Biltmore. Pretty thing; long legs. She and Tony hooked up after he flirted with her on or about April fourteenth, nineteen ninety nine. Angela. Angela Todd."

"And she got . . . pregnant?"

"She did. Tony said he doesn't remember the condom breaking, but he'd been drinking that night, so it's hard to get exact details, even after interviewing them both. You catching a cold there, Miss Potts?"

"Allergies. And the test was positive?"

"Yep. We had an private lab run it with coded numbers so the media didn't get wind of it. Positive match for Anthony Edward Stark. I went over the results with him the same afternoon I got them. Have to admit between you and me, he rose to the occasion."

"I'm sorry?" Pepper interjects.

"Tony told me to set up a trust fund for the kid, with yearly payouts starting the day of birth. Frankly, I thought he was going a little overboard, but he made it clear that baby was never going to go hungry. I mentioned an abortion, but Tony said no; he'd take care of his own, and I was impressed. Not a lot of guys in his situation that would be willing to do that, you know?"

"Yes. Yes, Mr. Stark can be quite . . . generous."

"You're telling me. Things didn't work out though. Miss Todd miscarried. Tried to hide it; I think her mother was looking at Tony as the ultimate gravy train and told her daughter to lie, but I'd hired a guy to keep tabs on her, and he reported her going to the hospital. Sad business, really. I thought Tony would be relieved, but I don't think he was. He told me to keep the trust fund set up, and ready to go."

"Prudent of him, I guess."

"Yeah."

"What happened to . . . Miss Todd?"

"She moved to Florida, and opened up a cigar shop in Little Havana last I heard, and that was about six years ago."

Thank you, Mr. McGauran."

"You're welcome, Miss Potts."

*** *** ***

The Parkman meeting is ugly, but not because of anything between himself and Pepper. Tony hates letting people go, especially talented people like Leo Parkman. But the truth is, Leo was an Obadiah hire, a specialist in projectile weapons, and a repulsive little man to boot. Note after note in his personnel file indicate an antisocial personality with delusions of grandeur, complicated by various addictions and legal troubles.

To wit: Parkman has been arrested three times. Once for drunk driving, once for breaking and entering and once for public nudity. Parkman has restraining orders on him from one ex-girlfriend and one current Stark employee. Parkman has abused his job privileges by sending abusive emails, downloading porn and creating an atmosphere of mistrust and apathy in his division.

Normally this sort of thing would be handled by HR, but Leo Parkman is high enough in the administration that it requires a hearing, and Tony is required to sit in. He does, feeling slightly sick to his stomach, mostly because Leo Parkman's history looks familiar; all but the restraining orders, anyway.

Parkman is defiant and sullen; his lawyer looks as if he's regretting taking the job of defending his client. Tony doesn't dare look at Pepper while the hearing rolls on. He listens with only half his attention on the matter and lets the rest of his thoughts brood on whether or not telling Pepper was the right thing.

Righting wrongs, Tony has learned bitterly, often hurts the most. Time smoothes away the cutting edges, but there's always a scar.

Parkman is dismissed with a perfunctory severance package. He bitches about it, but doesn't challenge the decision. Tony leaves as quickly as possible, not wanting to look in Pepper's eyes after something as revolting as this.

He locks himself in the workshop, tearing apart the Renault Sport Spider, determined to find the source of the tiny rattle he keeps feeling at ninety, and at the same time Tony cranks the music to decibels that make the concrete underfoot vibrate. Anything, everything to drown out the emptiness in his chest.

Tony doesn't know how much time passes; but when the music goes off, he straightens up, feeling the muscles in his back protest. He blinks, his vision slightly blurry, and looks to the door.

Pepper is standing there, her hair messily tied back, big smears of potting soil on the front of her pink tee-shirt, her expression slightly haunted. She moves towards him, slow and measured, and Tony realizes she's barefoot. When she reaches him, her hands come up to cup his face, and he smells the rich loam and earth on her.

She kisses him, a lingering, hard kiss, and moaning, he wraps his arms around her warm torso, relaxing in the comfort of having her in his arms, solid and strong; willowy. Tony pulls her to him, cheek against hers, and doesn't say anything.

"I missed you," Pepper tells him in a whisper. "Let's get some sleep."

Tony nods. The Spider is still in pieces all over the garage floor; he suspects there's an equal chaos in Paradiso, but neither of them matter. They've served their purposes and in the morning he and Pepper will clean up their messes and move on.

"Pepper—" he begins quietly. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'd rather cut off an arm than hurt you, ever."

"I'm not hurt," she tells him with a wry little smile. "I'm sad that Angela Todd miscarried, and I'm sad for you because I know you cared and I don't like to see you hurt. But I'm proud of the way you dealt with the pregnancy, Tony, and I love you for choosing to do what you saw was right. Just do me one favor."

"Anything," he murmurs, rubbing his forehead against hers.

"As long as we're together, please don't get any other women pregnant."

"Done deal," Tony agrees.

Pepper pulls back and looks at him, her expression troubled. "And . . . since we're confessing things . . ."

He shoots her a questioning look, worry tingeing his features.

Pepper lifts her chin, blinking. "Tony, there's a good chance I won't ever be able to have children. I didn't want to say anything because . . . because I was afraid to. But it's not fair to keep that from you, especially since you've been honest with me."

Tony stares at her for a moment. "Why? That is, why not? What's the problem?"

"Genetics," Pepper tells him gently. "Endometriosis. I have a lot of . . . scar tissue, I guess you could call it. My previous doctors have all commented on it, and I've been told that my chances of ever conceiving are . . . slim."

Tony reaches up and strokes her hair back from her forehead, his touch gentle and slow. "Okay then. I guess that's the way it is. Unless sometime down the line you *want* to have kids."

"I . . . don't know," Pepper sighs. "Since I didn't think I would ever . . . be in love, I never gave it much thought. And right now—right now just isn't the right time, Tony."

"Yeah," he agrees. "I'm there with you."

For a long moment they simply hold each other, both of them relaxing in the warm embrace. Pepper sighs, turning her head to rub her cheek against his slightly scratchy one. "It's been a long day. Can we just go to bed?"

Tony smiles. He bends and scoops her up, carrying her easily. "Come on, Snuggles."

Pepper protests, but Tony ignores her splutters and takes her through the door and up the stairs, calling to Jarvis to start the shower and put it at grease-scrubbing hot.


	9. Chapter 9

Jim Rhodes is slightly late for the meeting with Tony's acquisitions company, and slides into the nearest seat, trying not to disturb the discussion going on. He settles in. Pepper is there, along with Tony, and a little old man in a wheelchair, and on Rhodey's other side, a woman.

Tony grins. There are things he *knows* about his friend: Rhodey likes good Mexican food; basketball; rhythm & blues—

And one thing that Jim doesn't admit when sober, but that is true nonetheless is that when it comes to women, James Rhodes *loves* them with small waists and great, big chests; the bouncier the better.

Given the dimensions of the woman sitting next to Rhodey, Tony figures Christmas just came early for his best friend. Clearing his throat, he speaks up. "Colonel Rhodes, I'd like you to meet Odie Zody, and his daughter Jodie Zody of Zody and Sons."

It's to Tony's credit that he actually says all this without laughing, and Pepper is looking down at her laptop, biting her lips. Rhodey looks slightly suspicious as he glances towards Tony, but before he can say anything, the man in the wheelchair speaks up. "So *you're* the pilot Mr. Stark mentioned. Good to meet you, son; damned good to meet you." He holds out his hand, and Rhodey leans over to shake it, clearly surprised at the calluses and grip Mr. Zody has.

Tony was too.

"Thank you, sir," he responds politely, just as Tony knew he would. Tony is waiting for the moment when Rhodey actually *looks* at the woman, and counts down in his head as the colonel turns: _three, two, one—_

It's a lovely moment for Tony to see Rhodey hesitate a few seconds, poise gone as he takes in the luscious figure of Miss Jodie Zody. Not that Tony isn't enjoying it too, to a certain degree, although he's content to keep his letching more for show than fact.

Hard to work up a good leer when one's appetite is so richly sated at home, he knows that now.

"Colonel," Jodie murmurs, her voice musical and sweet. "Mr. Stark has been telling us all about you."

"All about me?" Rhodey echoes, and Tony hears the doubt and worry in his tone.

"You bet," he chimes in, digging a little because it's fun to tease Jim. "Height, weight, measurements, turn-offs and turn-ons—"

Now Rhodey is shooting him an evil glare, but Jodie is laughing, a bubbly giggle. "Mr. Stark is quite the kidder. He's been going on about your flying experiences. Dad and I are seriously impressed."

Tony catches Rhodey's eye and he makes it clear in that single glance that there *will* be further teasing at some future date.

And there is, once Rhodey returns from escorting the Zodys out to their car.

"So, going to need a snorkel, Platypus?" Tony comments. "I'm guessing you'll need one if you're going diving in *that* cleavage." He smirks at Rhodey's expression. Even though they've been friends for years, he still rises to the bait every damned time.

"Man, that was crude even for *you,*" Jim complains, not exactly denying the charge.

"Hey, hey, I'm not the one with da bust lust here. And before you try and deny it, remember who you're attempting to lie to."

"Fine. She's definitely . . . endowed. And yeah, she's a looker; I'll give you that. But--" Jim sighs, "She's too young for me, Tony. I don't rob cradles."

Tony shrugs, not convinced. "She may be young, but she's running the show with the company—or weren't you listening?"

"I was listening."

"Yeah, with your *eyes.* Trust me, pal, she's the one with the art degree and the portfolios to back it up. On that tour? Miss double D Zody's going to be asking you questions thick and fast, so you'd better be able to keep up."

"Don't call her that," Jim protests, making Tony smirk again. "And anyway, the tour won't be for at least a week. I'm sure she'll have forgotten all about the offer."

"Don't think so," Tony shoots back with a knowing smile. "And anyway, both of you are invited to the holiday party out at the children's hospital in two days. With luck she'll wear something slinky just for you, Platypus."

Jim smiles crookedly. "Right. Because she's all about the flyboys."

"Given the number of toy planes Zody & Sons puts out--" Tony replies, his tone serious for a moment, "I'm counting on it."

*** *** ***

Later that afternoon, Tony is working with Jarvis on integrating a new set of circuit relays for the Suit extremities when a warm scent drifts into the workshop. He stops and sniffs the air, trying to place what the smell is, because it's familiar but not common. After three more deep breaths, he tells Jarvis to keep running the simulations, and then Tony trots up the stairs, determined to solve the mystery.

Up in the main living room the scent is stronger—clove, allspice, nutmeg-- and in one flash, he knows what it is. A brief smile dimples his face, and Tony turns to the kitchen, looking in from the doorway to see the rows and rows of cooling gingerbread men along the counters.

"Aha. It's beginning to *smell* a lot like Christmas," Tony notes with satisfaction. "Sheesh, plan on feeding all of Los Angeles here?"

Pepper looks up from where she's rolling out the last of the dough, her movements well-practiced. "I doubled the recipe because I thought it might be nice to have extras for the Stark Industries staff room this year. And do NOT touch those; they're still cooling."

"Okay, okay," Tony replies, a little annoyed at being caught poking the nearest one. "I'm getting hungry looking at them, though."

"There's leftover pizza in the fridge," she tells him, and begins pressing the cutter into the rich brown dough. He comes over and watch her, fascinated to see Pepper stamp out six more men, scoop them up gently with a spatula, and set them onto a cookie sheet.

"You make such a cute Doctor Frankencookie," he tells her. "Creating images of men from inert ingredients."

"I'll be sure to make one with icing stitches," Pepper murmurs, her mouth crooking in a smile.

Tony perks up. "Oooh, decorating. My forte, Snuggles; something I'm sure you never knew."

"Is that a fact?"

"Yes," Tony assures her, lifting his chin. "My gingerbread art is . . . legendary."

"I could play center for the Lakers judging by how you're pulling my leg," Pepper banters back, but she casts an eye towards one of the counters, where the icing bag and bowls of gumdrops, sprinkles and various other candies sit waiting. Tony follows her gaze and his glee peaks as he bounces over to the art center.

"I can take a hint. Time to display my *other* talents," he announces, and Pepper bites her lips to keep from laughing. Grown man Tony Stark may be, but it's a tender thing to see the boyish side of him in these private moments, and Pepper knows it's been a long time since Tony allowed himself to show it.

"Did you wash your hands?" she chides.

Tony gives a huge put-upon sigh. "I'm not infectious, if that's your worry."

"I'm concerned with sanitary and non-toxic, primarily."

He lifts his hands, sniffs them, and in a prudent move, heads to the sink to rinse off lubricating oil. Pepper snickers, and slides the last tray into the oven. By the time she turns around, Tony is drying his palms on his shirt and heading back to the decorating center. "And now, the chance to see a maestro at work."

"Of course," she agrees sweetly. "Oh signore of the sprinkles."

"Imperatore of icing; Grande duca of gumdrops," Tony murmurs self-importantly. "By the way, I require a lovely assistant to ooh and ahh."

"Oh certainly," Pepper hoots, but saunters closer.

Tony slips an arm around her, dipping her in a smoothly urbane move before pulling her up again. "Did I mention the lovely assistant should be naked, too?"

Slightly dizzy, and vastly amused, Pepper shakes her head a fraction. "Is that a fact? Essential to your creative vibe, is it?"

"Completely," Tony tells her in his most sincere voice. "Better lose everything, right away."

"Nnnnnno," Pepper replies with a sweet smile. "I'd never live down the shame if I distracted a genius from his artistry."

"But it's essential to the process; vital to spark the muse," comes the coaxing tone. "It's a well-established fact that naked baking and decorating has produced the world's greatest confections. Cleopatra's ladyfingers; Bluebeard's many wedding cakes; the petite fours of Einstein, all created sans clothing."

"And now I know precisely *why* your eyes are brown," Pepper laughed. "Your concentration isn't on baking, it's on boffing. I've yet to see any gingerbread artistry, Tony."

He sighs and reluctantly lets her go. "You're stifling my peace of mind. Don't blame *me* if I don't produce my best work here."

"Waaaai-ting."

Tony draws in a deep breath, and picks up the icing bag. After a few small squeezes to get the pressure right, he moves to the gingerbread man on the end and proceeds. Under Pepper's amused gaze, he draws on the clean lines of a suit jacket, sleeves, pant hemlines and shoes. Finished with the foundation, Tony adds small gumdrop buttons, cementing them in place with icing, and goes back to do the face, concentrating intently. Under his fingers, the features show a fairly generic man, smiling.

Standing back, Tony waves at his work. "Do I pass the audition?"

"And is this someone in particular, or just the standard?" She demands gently.

Tony rolls his eyes and makes sunglasses over the eyes. "Fine. It's Happy; happy now?"

Pepper stares down at the gingerbread man, her smirk delightful. "He's, um . . ."

"Thinner, yeah. I'm making him look good for the holidays," Tony tells her. "Come on, admit it; I have the chops for cookie art. I need to hear you say it."

"Okay, okay, I'm impressed," Pepper admits, her smirk widening to a smile. "And to think I was worried you were going to go . . . Tony!"

He looks up from the second cookie, striving for innocence. This confection now sports rounded breasts with definite cleavage, and the icing thong is drawn with clear attention to detail. "What? Just giving Happy a girlfriend here."

Pepper drops her hands on her hips, torn between laughing and scolding. "That's not for public consumption."

"You're telling me," comes the quick reply. "I hope they have a gingerbread house. Or garage, in Happy's case."

"Stop it! I'm not making *obscene* gingerbread people—these are supposed to be for your office!"

"Yeah, and think how more popular they'll be if we go with the 'Naughty List' scenario," Tony enthuses, lifting the icing bag to consider the next cookie. "Sex sells, you know."

Pepper reaches over to take the icing bag from him, her annoyance quite clear now. "Some of us prefer loftier aspects of the season, Mr. Stark. Hand it over."

"Come and get it," he taunts, and the battle is on. Pepper twists up her mouth and makes a grab, but Tony is quicker and shifts the tool, moving it out of her reach. He slides around the big marble top island, staying tantalizingly in arm's reach, and bats his eyes at her. "God, you're beautiful when you're annoyed, Pepper. I think that's why I used to piss you off so much all these years, just to see that *spark* in your eyes."

"Give me that icing or I'll . . ." Pepper tries to think of a suitable threat.

"You'll spank me?" Tony offers, picking up a cookie and using it as a puppet version of himself, making his voice higher. "Ohh Snuggles, yes, yes, spank your bad, bad cookie man! Spank him until he gives up his icing---"

The utter ridiculousness of this makes Pepper laugh hard; she doubles up against the counter, wheezing a little, trying to stay mad and completely unable to do it. Tony joins in, setting the cookie down, but as he leans on the counter, he presses the bag, and icing squirts.

It lands on Pepper's arm in a white squiggle, sweet yet obscene in the aftermath of Tony's words, and Pepper laughs all over again, nearly collapsing in a paroxysm of giggles. Tony stumbles over and bends down licking the smear of decorative sugar off her arm, deliberately making his tongue swipe as lascivious as possible.

"St-st-stop or I really *will* spank you," she orders in little gasps, and moves to grab the icing bag. Tony tries to take it back, but in the struggle, another blast of white squirts out, looking like a rope of toothpaste.

Or worse.

It lands on Tony's shirt, and he glances down at it, then up again, his expression utterly smutty. "Was it *good* for you, baby?"

Pepper blushes and laughs again. "T-Tony! Stop!"

"Hey, *you're* the one going off prematurely here!"

Pepper manages to set the bag on the counter before brushing back a stray strand of bangs and then reaches out for Tony's shirt. She sets her mouth in her imperious mode. "Okay, you want naked cookies, you've got it, Tony. Strip, right now."

Her tone brooks no argument, and Tony glances around for a moment, then shrugs and peels off his shirt and jeans. Pepper takes them and tosses them nonchalantly out the kitchen door. "Boxers too."

"Fine," Tony bluffs in the buff, holding them out. "And you?"

"Oh I never said *I* was getting naked now, did I?"

"Whoa, time out—" Tony interjects, looking sheepish and slightly cold. "I thought this was a joint effort here."

Pepper pauses and looks at him. Tony, naked is one of her favorite sights, actually. He's so beautifully compact; without an ounce of fat, with incredible skin and natural athletic poise. Seeing her gaze he preens a little, and that small measure of male vanity makes her smirk. "Tony, the cookies need to be decorated by *today.* Neatly, in G-rated fashion. If you do a good job, I will take you into the bedroom and personally decorate *you.*"

Tony's lashes flutter, and Pepper can see the quick throb of his half-stiff erection responding to her cooing words. "God, really?"

She moves closer, brushing her lips against his, nuzzling his mouth and enjoying the heat rising off of Tony. "Oh really," Pepper promises.

The cookies are done in record time.

The icing is cool, and Tony tries not to flinch, but it's difficult when the chill is moving down his bare chest. Pepper straddles his hips, her concentration a beautiful thing as she slowly dots buttons of icing down his naked midline.

He looks down, but it's hard to see with the arc in the way, so he concentrates on watching Pepper instead. Being under her is quickly becoming one of his favorite positions anyway; Pepper on top allows him to savor her in her rare times of uninhibited joy. Pepper in the throes of sexual happiness is a lovely sight; one he intends to create very soon.

"Stop wiggling," Pepper murmurs.

"It's cold."

"That's because you're warm," she purrs. "Just out of the oven, and ready to be nibbled on."

Tony likes the sound of that, and patiently waits as Pepper puts small peppermints on the icing dots, then climbs off of him and looks down at her handiwork with satisfaction. Tony rises to his elbows and looks down at himself. "Just buttons?"

"Just wait," she tells him and pushes Tony back down.

To watch her; feel her lick each mint off is ticklish and urgent and arousing. Tony feels the swipe of her tongue along the muscles of his stomach, the hot kiss of her breath and groans. It's also a thrill to know that the direction Pepper is moving is towards his feet, and by the time the last button is crunched up, he's fully erect.

Pepper lies along his side and laughs softly. "This is going to be different," she promises, and slips her lips around his cock.

Tony gives a helplessly happy groan because the combined heat of her mouth and the chill of the peppermint in it send wild sensations all along the veined length of his shaft. His hips arch up and one hand reaches for her ass, squeezing it.

The torture is slow and sweet; Pepper is too damned good at drawing out the exquisite give and take of a blowjob, and Tony has no problems with that AT all. Playful, tender, gentle and naughty; Pepper is all of that. She goes deep, she licks, she strokes with her fingers and hums softly and Tony lies there, panting and thanking God this woman is in love with him.

Finally though, he gives a groan that Pepper understands; teasing time is over and she begins to move with sweet deliberation, bringing Tony to the brink and into the driving thrusts of orgasm as he sees stars behind his closed eyelids. He growls in deep pleasure and slumps back against the sheets, sated and drained.

Pepper wipes her mouth with her thumb and shifts to curl up next to him. "Run, run, as fast as you can—"

"Not running," Tony murmurs, eyes still closed. He reaches for her, arms around her snugly. "This gingerbread man is staying put and ready to bake anytime."

"Oh good," Pepper whispers, fingers gently stroking his softened shaft. "I want to make doughnuts next."

Tony laughs.


	10. Chapter 10

The season is moving quickly now, and Pepper isn't sure she's ready to deal with Tony's schedule, the various projects coming up *and* the personal joy and frustration of her relationship with the man. Along with the Christmas card list, the various charity functions, the decorating both at the office and here at the mansion, the shopping, the bonus checks, the end of the year books and all the last minute priorities, she's everywhere at once.

One of the blessings, though, is moving into the mansion. Pepper is grateful to be able to cut out her daily commute and get to work the minute she finishes her hour on the treadmill and steps out of the shower. Jarvis scrolls her agenda along a corner of the mirror and she reads through it as she does her make-up, grateful for the coffee that he serves as well, the cup hot and steaming on the bathroom counter.

By the time she's in the kitchen eating her cereal and toast, Pepper already has her phone list prioritized, and a firm plan for the day laid out. She plays with Rrrrrrr for a bit, then gives Jarvis whatever household instructions apply ("Please thaw the pot roast at three, and have Dummy sweep both the shop and the greenhouse today") then goes back to the bedroom and wakes Tony up.

The majority of the time she succeeds in getting him out of bed, moving him along the way she has for years; Pepper Potts has a PhD in Stark wrangling, not that anyone offers a degree in it. Tony either grumbles and slowly follows her patient directions, or scrambles out and hustles himself along if there are big plans for the day.

But now that Pepper has moved in, Tony has developed a third response, which is to make every attempt to seduce her into coming back to bed and blowing off the morning. Sometimes literally. Pepper has resisted, although it's difficult when a naked Tony Stark is barely covered in a sheet, crooking his finger at her in a beckoning manner, his smile promising all sorts of naughty thrills that he's very, very good at delivering.

It's a tease and both of them enjoy the game. Pepper has decided Tony has a definite interest in play-acting, and figures one morning she'll play back, just to see how he reacts. She's got faith it will definitely be fun.

In the meantime, she makes sure they can both make it to Doctor Phair's office in good time.

*** *** ***

They've been referred.

Doctor Phair has recommended her colleague, Mildred Bingham, to take on the issue of birth control, citing Doctor Bingham's specialty in Gynecology and Reproductive health. Both Tony and Pepper agree; Doctor Bingham's credentials are impressive, and her discretion impeccable.

The questionnaires she's given them, though, are uncomfortably thorough, Tony notes, and he's wincing at some of the personal inquiries demanded of him. It's for a good cause; one of the best as far as he's concerned but still, listing out one's full sexual history on paper and seeing all of it in black and white is a bit . . . alarming.

There's a lot, Tony sighs; quantity without quality.

Looking over, he notes that Pepper is concentrating over her clipboard, looking like a pretty coed taking a quiz. Tony wonders what question she's up to, so he leans over to take a peek. Pepper doesn't notice him for a moment too long; indignantly she pulls her clipboard to her chest in a defensive move, but it's too late, and Tony's eyes are wide.

"You've *done* number twenty-three?" he demands in a loud whisper. "No way! I'm calling you on *that* one, Potts!"

"Tony!" Pepper hisses. They're in a small office adjacent to Doctor Bingham's main one, trying to get their paperwork done. Tony scoots his rolling chair over to Pepper attempting to snatch her clipboard from her.

"And what *else* have you done, hmmmm?" he inquires, smirking at her. "It's bad to lie, you know."

"I'm *not* lying," she shoots back. "I've had . . . experiences, you know."

"No, I *don't* know," Tony grumbles, still going for the clipboard. "But I'm about to—"

He never gets the chance; the door opens and a tall, lanky woman with frizzy iron-grey hair and a no-nonsense look stares in at the two of them, her manner making it clear that whatever horseplay is going on is not approved of.

Not many people can cow Tony Stark, but Doctor Bingham has just made that exclusive group. "What the hell are you doing, Mr. Stark?"

"Nothing," Tony mumbles, rolling away and trying to look innocent. He misses the doctor's quick, conspiratorial wink at Pepper.

"Are the two of you finished then?"

Tony nods; Pepper does too and they hand over their clipboards to the doctor. She tucks them under her arm and gives a commanding nod of her head to the door. "Okay then, let's go take a look at these in my office."

Doctor Bingham settles in behind her huge desk, scanning one of the clipboards, her concentration on it while Tony and Pepper sit in the plush chairs on the other side. Tony notes that there is a large crystal ashtray on the desk, with fresh ashes in it.

"Wow," comes her murmur as she flips a sheet up and continues reading. "Jeez, Stark, didn't you have any *other* hobbies in your twenties?"

Tony's face flushes bright red and next to him, Pepper is not hiding her amusement very well.

Doctor Bingham continues. "Three to four nights a week for roughly twelve years . . . that's six tablespoons a week, rounding up . . . about fifty-four gallons of semen to this point. Quite the overachiever, but then again, look who I'm talking to, right?"

"I . . . do my part to live up to the reputation," Tony manages, getting a little of his own back, and Doctor Bingham laughs, her face lighting up when she does so. She sets the clipboard down and looks at Tony, shaking her head a little.

"You deserve it, stud, although I'm glad you're taking things more seriously now. I think we can put 'fully functional' as the best categorization for your current situation, but you're due for a prostate exam."

Tony makes a face; Doctor Bingham rolls her eyes. "Give me a break, Stark—according to this questionnaire, it's not like you haven't had things up your back porch before."

The blush returns but Doctor Bingham sighs and splays elegant hands on both clipboards before she looks up at Tony and Pepper.

"Okay, let me talk plainly here. My specialties are Gynecology and Urology, which means I know the plumbing systems of men and women pretty well. From the inside out, you could say. But the physical part is only one aspect of the entire system, and that's why I had you fill out so much personal detail here. I'm not *trying* to make you uncomfortable, though you will be, at first. What I'm trying to do is help us all accept that sexuality is an organic whole, and that your hearts and minds are as much a part of what goes on between your legs as anything else."

There is a pause as Tony and Pepper digest this; Doctor Bingham waits until they both look up at her again and she smiles. "There you go--I just want to reassure you both that I'm not a voyeur or a pervert when I ask you about your experiences, your preferences and your expectations."

"Thank you," Pepper murmurs softly. "I appreciate that very much."

"Do we . . ." Tony motions a finger at the clipboards on the desk, "Get a chance to look those over? Specifically each other's? Because I'm pretty sure Miss Potts here has . . . exaggerated a few things."

"Really?" Doctor Bingham drawls out a bit, looking at Pepper.

"No, I haven't," Pepper lifts her chin. She's blushing again too, but there's a firmness to her tone that shows the joke may have gone a bit too far, and that Tony had better back off.

He's learning. With a little sidelong glance that promises for an interesting discussion in the future, Tony settles back in his chair, keeping silent.

For the moment.

Doctor Bingham brings the tips of her fingers together and draws in a breath. "Let me guess . . . the two of you haven't been lovers for very long, have you?"

"No, not really," Pepper admits. "Although we've known each other for years."

"So I noticed. Do you talk much about sex? About what you like, about what you've tried?"

Silence fills the room, and Doctor Bingham nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, that says a lot right there. Okay, setting the getting to know you discussion aside for a moment, let's talk birth control. From what I read, your current method of contraception is condoms. Very commendable, especially on your part, Mr. Stark. I approve . . . ."

"--Thank you--" Tony interjects, smiling at this show of approval for his responsibility.

Doctor Bingham continues. " . . . because you're the more likely of the two of you to have contracted an STD."

His face falls for a moment, but the doctor waves a hand at Tony. "Don't get pissed; it's the simple truth and we all know it. I for one am not in any damned position to judge, so don't think I'm coming at you from that angle. I'm just going by facts here, and given that your bloodwork's clean, you've been a cautious and consistent latex user. Again, I approve. However, since the two of you are looking for something with better contraceptive statistics, let's talk over the choices. Oh, and stop me anytime you've got a question, all right? I tend to talk fast when I'm on a roll."

Doctor Bingham then takes them through a long and thoughtful discussion of the options, everything from sterilization through the IUD ("Not really an option for you, Pepper, not with the internal scarring you already have.") Despite her words, Doctor Bingham actually takes her time, and both Tony and Pepper loosen up enough to ask good questions of her.

In the end, it comes down to the Pill, which in the right dosage will not only provide good contraception, but also help Pepper's endometriosis through hormones. Doctor Bingham nods in approval of the choice and writes out the prescription on a pad. "All right then. And I want to add that I'm impressed with you, Stark. The fact that you care enough to be here says a hell of a lot to me about your stake in this."

"I love Pepper," Tony says firmly. "I want what's best for her, always."

Pepper reaches for his hand. "Thank you, Tony."

"Ah young love," Doctor Bingham murmurs, but smiles. "Okay then Pepper, we'll start you out with the low to mid dose and see how that works. If after three months you don't think it's helping, we'll take it from there. And Stark—you make an appointment for that prostate exam before you leave this building, or I'll hunt you down and do it wherever I find you," she threatens balefully.

They rise to leave; Doctor Bingham halts Tony. "Just a minute. I'd like a word with you in private, Stark."

Reluctantly, Pepper steps out. "I'll go make that appointment," she murmurs as she does so.

Tony winces again and turns to face Doctor Bingham, who has come out from behind her desk. She reaches out and taps his chest. "Let me take a look."

He unbuttons his shirt to reveal the arc to her. Doctor Bingham marvels at it a moment, lightly touching the scar tissue around the rim of it, her focus intent. "Amazing. No rejection, no infection around the implantation site?"

"Nope," Tony tells her as they both look down at it.

Doctor Bingham nods thoughtfully. "Then you're a medical anomaly for more reasons than one, Stark. I'm sure you'd veto it, but I can think of a few gene experts who'd love to unravel your DNA."

"Maybe after I'm dead. I've got a lot to do right now," Tony shoots back, but mildly. "Is Pepper going to be all right?"

"Yes," comes the assurance. "She's healthy and taking care of her stress. More than that, I can't say because of confidentiality. And about those clipboards?" Doctor Bingham smirks. "I'm pretty sure she's been honest. If number twenty-three intrigues you so much, you can always share your interest in numbers nine and sixteen in return."

Tony blushes yet again. "I was young; I was experimenting!"

"Pffft! You're a normal, healthy and overachieving adult male who could probably write a best-selling tell-all sex manual," Doctor Bingham retorts. "Everything's normal, so spend a little more time talking to your ladylove, okay? Stick with the condoms through Christmas, and you'll be able to bring in the New Year bareback. And don't miss that prostate exam."

*** *** ***

The first lights to go up are on Paradiso. Tony hangs them himself with Dummy and Butterfingers, and while it's not a professional job, they look gorgeous in the twilight, twinkling in red, green, blue and white. Pepper keeps them on while she tends to the garden, humming to the carols coming through the sound system.

A few days later, Tony hires professionals to outline the house in lights, and the clean beauty of the Malibu mansion edged in green and red lights is a marvel. Pepper adds big, fresh evergreen wreaths with red velvet bows to the front doors.

Bit by bit, Christmas shows up throughout the place. Peppermint striped candles; some fat, some long and elegant in holders show up on counters and on the piano. Crystal snowflakes, glittering and beautiful hung at various heights from the ceiling in the living room, and Pepper uses the Christmas cards Tony's received to decorate around the doors in cheery displays.

Tony hangs mistletoe in his workshop.

Not content with the usual small sprig, he's paid Moon Meadow Nursery for a bush about the size of Wisconsin and it looms inside the glass doorway of the garage, heavy with white berries and red ribbon, looking slightly ominous.

"Overkill, Tony," Pepper murmurs, breathless from the fourth kiss of the day.

"Subtle is *so* not me," he points out. "I do things in a big way, Potts. Speaking of which, we need a tree."

"We do," she agrees, smirking. "Not going with the mechanical one this year?"

One of Tony's creations is the expanding engineer's tree he created out of green metallic rods and pistons that rises up fifteen feet and unfolds its branches, forming a perfect cone shape of glittering green metal bars interlocked for extra strength. It's very Modern Art, especially with the geodesic ornaments added to it, and Tony could easily patent the entire thing, but isn't interested in doing so.

"Much as I like Dummy's sister, I think we both deserve genuine pine this year. Think you can handle that?"

"My forte, Mr. Stark." Pepper pauses and adds, "Um, ornaments?"

Tony looks up from the little three-dimensional device projected on his worktable and thinks. "Do I have any?"

"I . . . I don't know," Pepper tells him. "You may, in storage. Usually you just have me buy new ones every year and then donate them to the hospitals."

"Storage, storage . . . Yeah. I think I remember a box. We'll go get them out after dinner. Do *you* have any?" he asks curiously. Pepper has been moving in carton by carton over the last two weeks, and it's been fun to see her incorporate her belongings into the mansion. Tony has cleared out space and fallen in love with a few of her possessions to her amusement. Her painting of the Brant Point lighthouse is now hanging in the kitchen, and all her thick cotton bath sheets are in the Master bathroom.

Pepper has resigned herself to the fact that her Lazy Boy recliner is going to stay permanently here in the garage now, since Tony has claimed it for his own, stacking his tech journals and reference manuals for the cars all around it.

"Actually, I do. I have a few boxes and some lights, but most of them are . . . not really gorgeous," she confesses. "They're sentimental rather than ornamental."

"All the better," Tony tells her, flicking the projection off and coming over to her.

There's a look on his face that Pepper has a suspicion about, and she counters with a smirk, sidestepping his arms. "We have the televised Toys for Tots benefit to attend in two hours, Tony."

"And after that," he jumps on the end of her statement, "we can have dinner, and you can tell me about things."

"Things." Pepper fights a grin. Ever since leaving Doctor Bingham's office, she's known this inquiry would come. Tony simply cannot handle that she, Pepper Potts, might have done things other than vanilla missionary position sex.

"Things," he persists. "Bingham said we should talk."

"Talking is good. Talking is two-way, Tony; I'm not going to do *all* the talking."

"No," he tells her, "but you can go first."

"This is about twenty-three, isn't it?" Pepper sighs, putting her arms up around his neck and brushing his mouth with hers. "You think I lied?"

"I don't think you lied."

"But you're intrigued."

"Totally. It's just not . . . not a *you* thing, Snuggles. And I mean that in the nicest 'you are totally a good girl' sort of way, all right?"

"Would it upset you if I told you I liked it?" Pepper sighs against his mouth. "And that I didn't know how to bring it up with you because you'd think I was doing it for you and not for me?"

"No, and really? Frankly, I'm not exactly a grand expert, but yes the idea is *damned* intriguing—incendiary, actually-- and I'm perfectly willing to, um, perform to specifications if you just say the word," Tony half-growls, half moans, his hands sliding around her slender waist to grip her ass possessively.

Pepper nips his lower lip for a moment, and pulls back, a happy glitter in her eyes, high color on her cheekbones. "Then *maybe* we ought to plan on a nice long dinner after the benefit, Mr. Stark, and . . . go over our numbers."


	11. Chapter 11

"He's impossible to shop for," Pepper sighs.

Next to her, Rhodey gives an emphatic nod of agreement. "That's the trouble with billionaires—they tend to just go out and get whatever they want for themselves. I wish *I* had that problem, you know?"

Pepper shoots him a dry look. "Surrrre you do." They are standing in the edge of Galleria Glorioso, looking over the directory of stores and debating where to go first as all around them the bustle of holiday shoppers trot, amble, stroll, lumber and trudge around them. The tinny sounds of 'Little Drummer Boy' rattle out from the hidden overhead speakers, competing with the mingled orchestra of voices, cell phones and shop muzak streaming from various stores.

"The only store that might have something Tony likes is *this* one," Rhodey touches on the map, "And I am *not* going in with you."

Pepper goes pink. "I'm *not* going to shop at Jezebel's for Tony! That's . . ." She tries to figure out what to say, but Rhodey grins.

"That's what he'd like, unless there's a Victoria's Secret in this place. Same merchandise, different corporation."

"None of it is on my shopping list," Pepper grumbles, still embarrassed. "Not even remotely."

"So what *is* on your list?"

"Um . . ." she stalls, embarrassed now for another reason. "A few things . . ."

Pepper doesn't dare admit that there are only three items on the list, and one of them is a new microwave for the garage workshop kitchen. After years of abuse, the old one is so encrusted with exploded pop tart crumbs and fossilized bits of pizza that she can't stand looking at it anymore.

It's a practical gift, and she hates herself for that, because like socks and underwear, it's just not fun to get those at Christmas.

The problem though, is that Rhodey is right—generally Tony is very generous with himself, and trying to find something he'd like that he hasn't already purchased is difficult at best.

Then she notes a store and smiles. "Come on, Jim; I think I know where we might get a few things."

Rhodey allows himself to be towed along, privately amused because he has already had the 'what do I buy?' conversation with Tony about Pepper one day earlier, and apparently the task is no easier for him than it is for her.

"_Not jewelry; she won't take it, not clothing because I won't pick the right size or color; not a car because I'll get a damn lecture on how she doesn't *need* a new one—seriously, Platypus, I am screwed on this gift thing."_

"_The greenhouse was good," Rhodey pointed out pragmatically._

"_The greenhouse was a *no-BRAINER!*" Tony barked. "The minute I saw her singing while yanking up green beans out in Kansas it was pretty clear to all and sundry that Potts is Persephone to my Hades."_

"_Tony, get a hold of yourself, man, you're taking this *waaaay* too seriously."_

"_Don't talk to me about serious. You know what I *want* to give her?"_

"_No, no, don't *go* there. It's too early in the relationship, and you do NOT want her shooting you down!" Rhodey told him, alarmed and amused all at the same time. It was rare, damned rare to see Tony Stark at a loss, especially over a woman, but then again, this was Pepper they were talking about, and considering how utterly ga-ga the man was about her, all bets were off._

"_I know, I know," Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "I don't get it--*why* is it so hard to find the right thing for the person I give the biggest damn about?"_

"_Oh great, I've been bumped. Next thing you'll tell me, I'm out of your five," Jim grumbled good-naturedly. "Look, give her something meaningful. Something that means something to YOU, Bro. Something your mom would have approved of."_

_That was when it happened._

_Tony scrambled around the desk, cupped Rhodey's face and quickly, fiercely* kissed* him, laughing manically at his expression a second later. "That's fucking IT! Oh I LOVE you, Colonel! Just for that I'm going to make it my personal mission this Christmas to get you set up with Miss Jodie Bodacious Zody!"_

"_Aggggh! Damn it, you did NOT just *fucking* KISS me!" Jim spluttered, wiping his lips with the back of his hand and pulling away. Tony laughed again and batted his eyes coyly._

"_Sure did, but don't worry--you've got that 'don't ask, don't tell' policy to fall back on, although I have to admit I *do* like your aftershave--"_

"_Tony, NO," Jim growled, annoyance rising in his tone. "Don't make me beat the crap out of you!"_

"_Again, you mean?" Tony cheekily inquired, although there was a wary glint in his eyes that immediately made Jim feel guilty._

_Ancient history. Not a shining moment early on in their long friendship._

_But sometimes the ghost rises up, briefly, and Jim always hates when it does._

"_Just . . . don't kiss me, man. Don't ever *kiss* me," he growled, softening his tone._

"_Not even under the mistletoe?"_

"_Yeah right. Not unless you want it shoved up your ass, Stark."_

*** *** ***

"Which parties do I turn down and which do I accept for you this year?" Pepper asks thoughtfully. She's perched on the edge of his desk, folders in hand, all business and looking marvelous. Tony, back from his second mission in a week, however, is slouched in his chair, nearly asleep, a fading bruise on one cheek.

"Which ones are from shameless suck-ups?"

"Most of them."

"Choose two and we'll send Enrique."

"That's mean," Pepper murmurs absently, but moves the stylus over her BlackBerry, tapping the screen. "Okay, he can do the Malibu Holiday Fest, but which second one would he like better; the yacht club Gala, or the Aspen Christmas Ball?"

"Aspen—Alden gets seasick," Tony replies. "They can have my suite at the Westwood. Which parties *aren't* looking for the glory of my name recognition?"

"The hospital party," comes her prompt reply. Pepper knows it's a winner; Tony, despite his playboy ways has always been a sucker for a good charity, and the Children's hospital is one of his dearest causes. He supported it before his days in Afghanistan, and doubly so now.

"Good. We'll go to that one. Oh, and make sure both Rhodey and that nice Miss Zody get invitations too, will you?"

Pepper looks askance at Tony, who gives his most innocent smile in return. She waits a beat. "You're plotting something."

"I'm not plotting, I'm matchmaking. Platypus needs a woman."

"Isn't she a little . . . young for him?" Pepper questions, curious now, and amused as well. Tony is a lot of things, but a romance arranger isn't one of them.

"Nope. She's out of college with two degrees and runs her own business, so no matter what her chronological age, mentally she's right there with our Jimbo. And besides, he loves big . . . personalities," Tony trails off, smirking.

Pepper rolls her eyes, well aware of the euphemism. "Crass, Mr. Stark."

"Actually that was tactful, for me," he points out. "I *could* have called them--"

"--Don't," Pepper tells him, fighting a smirk of her own. "I'm not interested in your descriptive capacity for mammary glands of any size."

"A large vocabulary is essential in this world," Tony chides. "But the point is that Rhodey loves making the trip to Hooterville, so just have Miss Zody invited to the party, okay?"

"Once again, you're *all* about the Christmas spirit Mr. Stark," Pepper sighs.

"Have I mentioned lately how much I love being the boss of you, Miss Potts?"

"Frequently," she replies, and slides off the edge of the desk. "Oh! There are packages that have arrived at the house, and you are *not* to open, shake or peek at them."

"That's okay," Tony agrees amiably.

Too amiably. Pepper adds, "No X-raying them either."

"Then can I have Jarvis analyze the weights and shipping addresses for reasonable hypotheses?"

"No."

Tony sighs. "Fine. That will be all, Miss Scrooge."

Pepper moves around the desk and lightly touches his cheek, the back of her fingers cool against his skin. "I can reschedule your appearances today if you'd like, and you can take a long nap."

He opens his eyes and looks up at her, shifting his face to kiss her fingers lightly. "It's okay, I'm good for now, but I might make it an early night."

"We could stay in, decorate the tree," she offers, and he nods perking up a bit.

"Sounds good. Did you find the ornaments?" Tony reaches for his coffee.

"I found a few labeled boxes after Jarvis printed out your household goods inventory list," Pepper murmurs. "I'm not sure what shape they're in since I haven't opened anything."

Tony shrugs. "We'll find out together, okay?" He gives her fingers a squeeze and smiles at her before she nods, and steps out of the office. Once she's gone, Tony allows himself to slump against the desk, yawning.

Aside from the bruises, being a hero is also hell on the circadian rhythms.

*** *** ***

Rrrrrrr has decided that the Christmas tree is her new jungle gym. Pepper tries to coax her down, but the needles and branches are too enticing to the kitten, and she climbs out of arm's reach, a long stretch of black and white along the trunk.

"Tony. I'm afraid she's going to fall," Pepper mutters.

He stares at her, one eyebrow going up. "Exactly how many cats have you owned, Potts?"

"One," she replies, reluctantly, not looking at him.

"Not *counting* Rrrrrrr."

"Look, that's not important right now," Pepper bluffs. "And besides, how many have YOU owned?"

"Four," Tony tells her, his voice matter-of-fact. "Ombra, Roger, Madame Curie and now Rrrrrrr. Cats get stuck in trees, sure, but they don't fall out of them. Unless you shake the tree, really really hard," he adds thoughtfully.

"Tony!"

"The trick is to entice her back down, and then put a deterrent around the base," he continues, warming to the topic, a gleam in his eye. "Dummy?"

The robot rolls up, claw clacking in anticipation of an order. Tony smiles, briefly. "Fetch. One can of tuna and a can opener."

"We don't *have* a portable can opener," Pepper interjects. "It's electric."

"I'll rewire one into Dummy," Tony decides, receiving an approving claw waggle. "But for the moment, we'll adjust."

Ten minutes later, Rrrrrrr is happily wolfing down a small portion of Magic Mermaid albacore from a plastic dish, her little tail sweeping back and forth with kitty bliss as they watch her. Pepper shoots a sidelong glance at Tony, impressed with his feline familiarity.

"Tell me about your cats," she requests, softly as she pours out two cups of eggnog.

Tony smiles. "Evil Ombre, my mother's *other* baby. She adopted him from the SPCA back when I was eight, and God, he was this huuuuge short-haired black hulk; ten pounds, all muscle. Looked like a Mafia button man, cat version. He love my mom, tolerated me, and really disliked my dad at first, but gradually that changed because Dad used to have this putting green in his study, and Ombre used to bat the golf balls back to him. They'd get into this back and forth which was damned funny to watch. Good cat."

"Sounds like it. And the others?" Pepper hands Tony a cup and they walk back to the tree. Dummy has already wrapped the lights around it in neat spirals. Tony eyes the job critically, and Pepper wonders if *all* men have some genetic propensity for hanging Christmas lights.

"Roger was this skinny brown tabby back at MIT. Total mooch—he'd wait until we'd ordered pizza and gotten distracted by some problem in the design lab, then he'd slink in and drag away slice after slice to chew the sausage and pepperoni off. I didn't exactly *own* him, since he was property of the lab, but I probably spent more time with that furball when I was there than any other student."

"Nice," Pepper tells him softly, picturing a younger, intense Tony absently talking to a cat on a drafting table. She guides him to a few boxes set out neatly along the sofa, and Tony smiles again, the warmth of memory in his gaze.

"Yep, he was. And Madame Curie--" Tony grimaces a little. "She was this runty Siamese that some party guest left at my house about ten years ago. Used to stomp on my face at six AM, whether I, um, had company or not, and yowled like Aretha Franklin. NOT fun during a hangover," Tony shuddered. "But she was a *great* lap cat, and her purr was so strong you could feel it through her ribs. I ended up giving her to Happy's aunt Mona because I was travelling so much in those days that I was hardly home."

Pepper nods; at least Tony understood pets needed some stability. "I'm glad you found her a good home. *Another* good home," she corrects, seeing Tony's slightly hurt glare.

"Yeah well . . ." he sighs. "Things are different now, and I like Rrrrrrr. She's good for the house. Let's open this box first."

The box in question is an old cardboard one with a label so ancient it's pasted on. Pepper watches as Tony tugs the tape off the seam and pulls the flaps open, releasing the soft whiff of mildew. Yellowed, crumpled newspaper lies on top, and he pulls wads of it out, reaching to lift a glass ornament up.

It's a pickle. A green, glass gherkin, frosted with snow sparkles, glittering as Tony holds it up and smiles.

"Wow. Talk about memory lane. Did you have the pickle thing for your tree at Christmas?" he murmurs, examining the ornament closely.

Pepper looks puzzled, and comes nearer, looking at the ornament. It's bizarre, but pretty, and she shakes her head. "Nooooo. We hung food on the tree: Popcorn strands and candy canes, one or two gingerbread men, but not pickles."

"Oh you lost out then: too bad, *so* sad," Tony teases, bringing the ornament around to her. "The tradition is that the first person to find the pickle ornament on Christmas day gets an extra present. And the winner hangs it the next year."

There's a lightness in his tone; mingled delight and memory that Pepper loves, because this is clearly good for Tony, so she takes the ornament from him and holds it up, letting the light gleam on it. "An extra present, you say? Not that I'm greedy or anything."

"Forget it, Snuggles. I'm the pickle champ of this house, and you're gonna owe ME." He throws down the gauntlet blandly, in true Stark competitive fashion.

"We'll see," Pepper tells him loftily, and sets the pickle next to one of the peppermint candles.

They open the rest of the box, which is filled with ornaments that are sixty years old. The colors have faded on some, but Pepper delights in the Old World puffy glass shapes, and loves Tony's comments about them as he takes them from her and hangs them reverently on the tree.

"My dad bought this set of Murano balls for my mom when we went back to Italy once . . . I broke the Nutcracker's jaw when I tried to get into the center of a marble . . . . made *this* crappy thing in grade school. I think God's Eyes were required of every second-grader."

"They were," Pepper laughs. "I have one in *my* box of ornaments."

"Is yours purple and green?"

"Pink and white."

"Girly," Tony snorts.

"Yes, well, I was a girl," Pepper points out wryly. "It fit."

She brings over the folding ladder and a few more boxes, including her own. Tony opens it with a certain nosiness that amuses her. Rrrrrrr has finished her tuna and now comes over, looking up at the tree warily.

Then Tony finds the little silver whistle. He blows it experimentally, and Rrrrrrr panics at the high and unexpected sound; she skitters wildly, her claws having trouble finding purchase on the stone floor as she shoots off.

Tony is laughing, shoulders shaking as he doubles up for a second, and although Pepper feels sorry for Rrrrrrr, she can't help but laugh too.

"Oh *that* was a cartoon classic!" Tony chortles, making a rocket gesture with his hand, "Vrrrrooooom!"

"That was . . . mean," Pepper tries to chide him, but since she's still giggling a little herself, he turns and wraps his arms around her, kissing her. Little chuckles puff out between their lips as they keep remembering Rrrrrrr's exit, and the sensation tickles enough to make them both keep laughing.

Finally Tony pulls back and shoots Pepper a smutty look. "You know, there's *another* tradition to incorporate, Snuggles. I'm sure you'd look deliciously salacious with the lights of the tree on your bare skin. In fact, we could do number twenty-three right here and add a whole new dimension to it, Rrrrowrrrrr!"

Pepper laughs. "Oh I don't think so, Tony. Think about it--we'd need kneepads, a vintage Chablis, a gallon of lube and the Barry White Christmas album. Let's save twenty-three for a time when we won't have to show ourselves in public the next day."

Tony pouts, but Pepper bends to nip his neck and add, "Besides, there are *other* numbers. I'm very interested to see you do nine."

"Reaaaaally?" he murmurs. Nine is one of his own naughty turn-ons, and Tony suspects Pepper knows it. Now he's a little stunned and a lot aroused; the latter is helped by Pepper's busy hand running up along his inseam of his jeans in a warm caress.

"Oh really," she purrs back. "Face it; you need to *earn* your top spot on Santa's Naughty List, Mr. Stark."

Her fingers tug his fly down, and Tony gives a happy moan.


	12. Chapter 12

The holiday party at the hospital turns out to be fun, especially as Pepper watches Tony's matchmaking in action. She's amused at his nosy interest, and makes it a point to re-direct his attention back repeatedly to the donors and kids, thus letting Jim and Miss Zody chat without interference.

"Why this sudden urge to set Jim up?" Pepper asks quietly as later on they move through the buffet table. Tony, an old hand at choosing the safest items from such a display, scoops up fruit and slices of cheese.

"Is it so wrong to want to share the love?" Tony murmurs, a tad defensively. "In a non-threesome sort of way, that is. *I'm* happy and considering it's the Christmas season, I feel the need to share. Especially since I can't put up those billboards I want."

Pepper's dimples deepen. "Yes, well splaying out the subtle message 'T.S. loves P.P' in bright neon and running lights along the landscape of California's highways is a no-go, Tony. Not now, not *ever.*"

"Fine," Tony huffs, dropping a pair of pink and lonely melon balls on Pepper's plate. "Here, here's some symbolism for you."

"Tony," Pepper chides sweetly. "In the first place, those are, um, waaay too small to represent the Stark legacy."

"Okay, I love you for that right there," Tony concedes with an intimate grin. "And your second point?"

"The second point is that we're supposed to be *discreet.* That means no grand public overtures, no physical contact, no slips to the media," she reminds him firmly in a quiet voice.

They've been over this repeatedly; Pepper has made it abundantly clear that any impulsive revelations on Tony's part will force an immediate re-evaluation of the relationship.

She doesn't *want* to hold him hostage to good behavior this way, but Pepper Potts hasn't managed to keep her firm footing through years of the chaotic day-to-day schedule of Tony Stark's life by being careless. Stocks have risen and fallen in response to the billionaire's publicity, and the fallout from his previous 'I AM Iron Man' escapade is still echoing through the conservatives throughout the planet.

"You know that *Izzy* knows we're an item," Tony tells her as they make their way out of the buffet line and over to the head table. Tony leads the way, looking good in his lightweight cream suit with red candy cane shirt.

"Izzy hasn't got the nerve to say anything," comes Pepper's exasperated response. "He's terrified of you *and* Happy."

"True," Tony sighs. "Remember the inhaler?"

Pepper does. Izzy Lattimore is a skinny, scruffy asthmatic free-lance paparazzo photographer for _The Weekly Whisper_; the lowest of the low in supermarket tabloids. He camps outside the perimeter of the estate, a meek figure in cast-off camouflage pants and vest, looking more like a forlorn Shaggy Rogers without his Scooby-do than anything else.

Tony had ignored the man for a few years, particularly since Izzy never did anything more than take a few half-hearted photos of the mansion, and wander along the edge of the estate. Rain or shine, Izzy was there loitering around the front gate from six in the morning until after nine on the nights Tony was home, as much a fixture on the landscape as the palm trees.

One morning though, Tony had felt impish, and made Happy stop the car just outside the gate. Izzy had freaked, and by the time Tony stepped out of the limo, the panicking paparazzo had gone into a fit of asthmatic wheezing so loud that he sounded like Darth Vader playing a one-note harmonica. Alarmed, Tony tried to calm him down, but in his flailing, Izzy managed to drop his inhaler and step on it himself, crunching the plastic nozzle to bits, right before passing out.

Pepper called the ambulance; Tony insisted on a private room and paid the hospital bill in full. The story never made any tabloids, not even _The Whisper_.

Within a week Izzy was back, as timid as ever, but now when the limo passes through the gate he shyly waves, and sometimes Tony unrolls the window and waves back, amused.

"He's like Chuchundra, from _Rikki-Tikki-Tavi_," Tony sighs, "Too afraid to run into the middle of the room."

Pepper nods. "I wish the rest of the media was like that."

"Fat chance," Tony snorts. "The rest of the hyenas are strong and healthy."

"All the more reason not to give them anything to chew on," Pepper warns. "And that includes the two of *us.*"

Tony gives a little sigh, then pushes his plate away. "Fine. I'll go flirt outrageously with other women if it makes you happy."

"Let me pick the women, and it might," Pepper responds serenely. Tony shoots her a sidelong glance, his eyebrow waggling insinuation clear, and she laughs softly. "No threesomes, Mr. Stark. Unless I get to pick the other man."

His expression swiftly shifts to a flash of pure possessiveness that makes her toes curl; there are some things that Tony Stark does *not* share, and Pepper is very glad she's top of the list.

"Like *hell,*" he growls, and smoothly slips away from the table. Pepper watches him scoop up a little patient with a sparkly eye-patch, carrying her onto the dance floor and swaying with her as she giggles delightedly. She chatters away with Tony, one arm around his neck, and Pepper smiles.

*** *** ***

Tony looks at the recipe card, and a welling of emotion rises up in him, pushing just behind the arc in his chest. His eyes sting, and he feels that even though there is pain, it's diluted; somehow softened by time. Under it, Tony finds the desire to reclaim something that's been missing for a long, long time.

"Christmas Eve, Potts. I want a party."

Pepper glances over from the cupboard where she's stocking groceries, surprised. "You do?"

"Yep. Something small and close—Rhodey and three or four good people. Mona and Marv; Enrique and Alden, maybe." Tony looks to her. "Is that okay?"

Pepper is about to speak; to object since this is going to be their first holiday together, but then she spots the card in his hand and suddenly she understands.

The cioppino.

She nods, dipping her head so Tony won't see her sudden tears. "Of course, Tony. Yes."

He comes over and wraps his arms around her from behind, burying his nose in her hair as they stand together in the kitchen for a long quiet moment. Slowly Tony whispers to Pepper. "Thank you. I don't know if it's going to be good or not, but I think . . . it's time to try."

Pepper nods. She leans back in his embrace, sniffing a little, and reaches for her BlackBerry on the counter. "Yes. So—this means a new shopping list and a to-do list."

"Yep. Clams, mussels, whitefish, scallops, shrimp, oregano—"

"—We have that, fresh, in the greenhouse," Pepper informs him delightedly. "Along with rosemary, basil, mint, chives and green onions."

"I *knew* that big terrarium would come in handy for sex, but fresh herbs? Who knew?" Tony murmurs, shifting his hands to cup her breasts.

Before Pepper can chide him, Jarvis interrupts their playful tête-à-tête. "Excuse me, sir, but there is a UPS truck approaching the gate."

"Oh?" Tony's voice feigns indifference. "I'll just go down and pick up whatever's being delivered."

"Tony—!" comes the warning, but Jarvis intercedes once more.

"According to the tracking information, the parcels in question *are* indeed addressed to Mr. Stark."

Now it's Pepper's turn to look inquisitive, and Tony lifts his chin, doing his best to look imperious. "No. Two can play at the 'hide presents before Christmas' game, and right now this is my move, so stay put while I go see a man about some . . . stuff."

Pepper gives a shrug. "Certainly Mr. Stark. I'm sure you can handle whatever it is. I'll just . . . work on the shopping list."

"You do that."

"Here, in the kitchen."

"Exactly."

"Without peeking."

"Very good, Miss Potts," he tells her, then dashes out the kitchen door. Pepper wanders over to the counter, tapping her nails on the polished granite surface, her expression slightly irked, and very much amused.

"Jarvis?"

"I have been instructed in the strictest terms not to give you *any* information regarding the delivery," comes the slightly apologetic tone.

"Fine," Pepper sighs. "Take *his* side."

"This is hardly a contest of wills," Jarvis chides. "And given the number of holiday gift items currently located in your former residence, I find your attitude fascinating."

She breaks into a smile and laughs at herself. "You know what, Jarvis? So do I."

*** *** ***

The Christmas Eve dinner party is pretty much a success. Happy is absent; holiday plans take him north, and Pepper suspects that there is a woman in the scenario. She's glad for him; of all the drivers and bodyguards Tony has employed, Happy is the most solid, most dependable, most discreet and accepting. Pepper makes sure he takes the wrapped present and frosted gingerbread men before he leaves.

The guest list is small: Rhodey of course, Miss Zody, and Happy's aunt and uncle, Mona and Marv, a pair of little old people who look like apple doll versions of Happy. They run the Covenant Heart Rescue Mission, which Tony funds generously. Mona and Marv adore Tony enough to chide gently him about his drinking and womanizing and lack of ambition—

And he takes it from them. Nobody else on the planet gets away with calling Tony Stark a slacker. But considering that eighty-two year old Marv barely comes up to Tony's shoulder, and his comments are done with gruff and clear affection, Tony doesn't mind.

The cioppino is wonderful. Not only is Maria Stark's recipe clear and easy to follow, but Tony remembers all the little touches that make it delicious, adding just the right amount if basil and garlic as Mona looks around his shoulder and compliments him. Cooking is good therapy for Tony and having everyone wandering in and out of the kitchen makes for a happy group.

Pepper sips her wine and watches; Tony has on an apron that reads _I am Iron Chef, clearly _and he's dicing garlic like he's done it all his life. At the moment everyone else is out somewhere around; Jim is giving Jodie a tour of the place, and the Hogans are probably playing with Rrrrrrr.

Under the soft spell of Vince Guaraldi, Pepper impishly decides to make her move. She shifts to stand next to Tony, nuzzling the side of his cheek gently. He blinks a little, but turns to nuzzle her back, delighted with her gentle affection. "Garlic getting to you, Potts? Or possibly the vino?"

"Both," she teases. "I find the sight of you engaged in domestic creativity arousing, Mr. Stark."

"Really?" he replies, lifting the cutting board and scraping the garlic into the pot with the knife. "Just wait until you see me vacuum, then. I have a riding model in mind--"

"I have something *else* in mind," Pepper tells him gently, and leans to bring her lips to his ear. Her whisper is soft, but Tony closes his eyes and gives a thrilled little groan, nearly dropping the knife into the cioppino in reaction.

"Okay, you have to stop promising me things like that when other people are around, because it would be damned rude for me to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to the bedroom--"

"Who said anything about the bedroom? I was thinking after the party we could lay out between the Christmas tree and the fireplace," Pepper breathes into his ear, and licks it for good measure.

Tony clamps his jaw, but the pulse along the side of his neck gives him away. "Killing me here, Potts. And I'm going to hold you to *every* word."

"Good," she tells him, and smiles again as he slips an arm around her waist, pulling her to him for a kiss.

*** *** ***

Later, after the guests have gone, when the dishes are done and night has settled across the coast, bringing darkness with twinkles in it, Pepper turns her attention to kissing Tony.

She likes doing it, more so with him than anyone else in her modest experience. Tony kisses with a warmth and deliberation that Pepper savors, and he's generous enough to let her lead when she so desires.

Tonight, she does. Pepper feels herself unfold within; unclench and relax, her mood warmed not only by the joy of the season, but also by the understanding that this has been a long time coming. This trust and faith in what she and Tony have.

This love.

Pepper loves him, and lets herself think it, feel it, get drunk on it as she undresses him, playing with his beard, planting kisses down his neck, toying with his nipples. Under her touch, Tony smiles and sighs and shudders, his pleasure beautiful in the glow of the fire. He's unself-conscious about the arc now, and her fingers circle it gently before moving down the hard muscles of his stomach.

Tony watches her, letting her set the pace and do what she will to him, his smile soft and a little dazed; a man in love who still cannot quite believe his good luck. Pepper notes that Tony's skin is warm and the scent of it, rich with his pheromones is making her hungry for him on the most basic, primitive level. Carefully Pepper closes her teeth on one nipple, bringing forth a groan from Tony.

"Gahhh! Snuggles . . ." he drawls out in a slow pleasured voice, "I have to tell you something."

"Take your pants off," she replies, "Do that first."

He looks slightly annoyed and very much excited; this bears out when Tony uncovers an erection that's definitely glad to see her. Pepper slides one palm under the thick shaft, caressing it playfully.

"You like this," she tells him as he throbs in her hand.

"I cannot lie; yes I do," Tony admits in his forthright way. "Very much so. Um, Pepper. I need to tell you . . . about tonight . . ."

"I already know," she murmurs, and toys with his shaft, her fingers curling around it, stroking softly. Tony blinks, torn between trying to talk and just enjoying the hand job.

"Wh-what? What do you know? Oh, niiiice. Not the not knowing, the um, yeah . . . *thaaaat* . . ." he mumbles as Pepper's fingers tighten gently.

"That you've never done it," Pepper tells him, and bends to let her tongue circle the head of his prick. Tony gasps, hips rocking forward before his brain hears what she's said because his body is very much with the program while his head is still a few steps behind.

"Wait, you *know*?" he manages, "How—?"

Pepper looks up at him, brushing her hair back and her smile is patient. "I just do. But after tonight, you won't be a twenty-three virgin . . . unless you want to stop."

His eyebrows go up and Tony shakes his head. "Not a chance," he mutters thickly, and stretches out along with her on the thick rug.

After that it's all a matter of heat and slickness and heavy breathing; of Pepper languid and damp with pleasure as she gently murmurs encouragement to him, guiding Tony, going slowly enough for them both to relax.

The initial breech is unexpectedly exquisite, and both Tony and Pepper groan with pleasure, holding there for long moments. She relaxes, adjusting to the full sensation, and gradually, Pepper looks over her shoulder and nods, her whisper throaty. "Deeper. Please."

Tony fights a shudder and moves slowly, lost in the incredible heat, the sweet squeeze of Pepper's ass. He sees the long trough of her spine in the firelight, damp and slender, the way her body moves against his, and the lovely taboo-tinged image of himself thrusting deeply between her pert cheeks is too much. He closes his eyes as the flash heat _loveyouPeppergodIloveyou!!_ surges in a wild shock through his body and his hips thrust forward sharply.

He slumps over her as Pepper gives a delighted cry, her body shuddering under his. They lie, still united, on the rug for a long time, not speaking, bodies cooling a little. Finally Tony grips the base of his softening cock to hold the condom in place and pulls away with a shuddering sigh, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. He pulls Pepper to him, and she cuddles in against his chest.

"And now," Tony mumbles. "We have to get married."

"We do? Thank you, by the way. That was . . . incredible," Pepper sighs.

"Welcome. Totally. And yeah. Because I'm not ever doing this with anyone except my wife. And that's going to be you."

"Tony—" he can feel her smile against his chest. "Does this mean you want to um, do it again sometime?"

"Give me twenty minutes," he promises her his voice already sleepy, and Pepper laughs.


	13. Chapter 13

Tony wakes to the sounds of Dean Martin crooning carols, and a soft shake of his shoulder. He blinks, smiles up at Pepper and then realization dawns on him. Scrabbling, he climbs out of bed. "Christmas. Yowza, it's Christmas, right?"

"Yep," Pepper assures him, handing him an espresso. "Santa came last night."

"Santa wasn't the only one," he quips back, waggling his eyebrows. Pepper blushes and turns away, not at ALL willing to acknowledge the remark. Tony slurps the coffee and moves to get in her face, looking carefully at her. "Come on, Pepper—it was wonderful, fantastic, amazing, at least for me."

"Yes, well me too," she murmurs, taking the cup from him. "What do you want for breakfast—waffles or pancakes?"

"Candy canes," Tony announces with a grin.

She mock-glares at him. "No. Bad enough you've got potent caffeine in your system. Adding sugar on top of that? I don't think so, Mr. Stark."

"I *like* bouncing off the walls--metaphorically speaking," he adds wincing at memories.

Pepper snickers, clearly aware of his trials and errors in building the Suit. "Of course you do. But, for the moment we're going to settle for waffles and juice. You can bring in our stockings too."

"Stockings?" Tony looks slightly baffled; Pepper grins.

"Stockings. We'll open them at breakfast. Didn't you do that as a kid?"

"Nope," he admits. "Our stockings were for decoration."

She pats his cheek. "Poor boy. Go check and see if Santa left you anything in yours this year. And NO candy canes!"

Tony darts out to the living room, sliding in socks to the front of the fireplace, glancing back at the rug in a rush of memory that makes him moan a little. He reluctantly turns his attention to the stockings sitting on the hearth, amused, intrigued and delighted all in one, particularly at the sight of his own stocking, well-filled with small, wrapped packages.

"Score. Oh yeah, I could get into THIS," he mutters to himself, and gleefully scoops up the two stockings. As he passes by the tree he hums the opening bars of _Jingle Bells_; the lights go on automatically. Tony reaches out and nabs a candy cane, adding it to his stocking, and staring at the packages mounded under the tree. "Okay. Like the looks of the haul. Definitely into this sort of Christmas."

Most of his previous Christmases have been spent sleeping. Sleeping with pills, sleeping off hangovers, sleeping in the garage in exhaustion and/or to avoid whoever was upstairs in his bed.

Tony realizes he hadn't been conscious much for this holiday in the last few years.

He wonders how Pepper used to spend them. Cruising back into the kitchen, he sets the stockings down, and asks her.

She smiles. "Usually stayed home, waiting for your one phone call from jail. Sometimes I got daring and slipped out to Paul's, but mostly I kept close to home."

"Alone?" Tony questions, frowning, and feeling guilty.

Pepper gives a blissful sigh. "Oh yes. I *loved* the peace and quiet."

"Oh," comes his slightly deflated response. "I guess you never really take a lot of vacation time, do you?"

"Rarely," Pepper admits, and adds, "It's okay, Tony. I get away just enough to stay sane, trust me."

He stands behind her, slipping his arms around Pepper's waist and nuzzling the back of her neck under the ponytail. "*One* of us has to be."

They eat. Tony pours syrup on his waffle, then proceeds to crunch up the candy cane and sprinkle the broken bits over the top, to Pepper's slightly horrified chagrin. "Tony!"

"One day a year," he counters, and adds candy cane crumbles to her waffle as well. "It's gonna be a new tradition."

"You know, I'm going on a hunch here, but I'm pretty sure you could have be diagnosed back in your childhood as ADD, right? AND hyperactive?"

"Genius," Tony counters loftily. "My IQ was my 'get out of jail free' card all the way through MIT."

"Hmmm," she replies, but the dimple is deep along the corner of her mouth and Pepper cuts up her waffle without another word.

As Tony clears the dishes, she picks up her stocking and pulls out a few of the little wrapped boxes. "So, let's see how well Santa knows me . . . oooh, Eclipse body powder!"

"Good stuff?" he asks, coming back to look over her shoulder.

Pepper nods, holding up the box with a sense of satisfaction. She nods at Tony's stocking across the table. "Go on; dig in. I'm sure it's not coal."

Tony cocks his head and picks up his stocking, tipping it out onto the table; little packages, all beautifully wrapped go tumbling out. He picks up one and looks at the tag. "To Tony, from Santa. Gee, he's got handwriting that looks awfully familiar."

"Santa was running late, wanted me to address things," Pepper assures him. "I do that for him every year."

"Thoughtful of you," Tony murmurs. He rips the paper and a small can rolls out. Tony pounces on it, his grin wide. "Martelli k-level solder! Oh fabulous, yesssss! I've got a few projects that can use this like *yesterday!*"

Pepper smirks. "Is that a fact?"

Tony looks up, eyes bright. "It is indeed. I think I'm going to like this stocking thing."

They make their way through their waffles and stockings: Pepper's loot consists of high-end bath and cosmetic products, and Tony is quietly careful to note the brands she prefers. His own collection of goodies include new micro tools for maintenance on his computer hardware; a new wallet ("How does the big guy in the red suit *know* I needed one?" Tony murmurs,) fancy chocolate covered espresso beans, a laser pointer ("I think that's actually for Rrrrrrr," Pepper tells him,) and finally, some exotic sexual lubricant that he holds up as if it's a grand prize.

"Ha! Number 23, here I come. Literally!"

"Tony—" Pepper blushes, and reaches for the bottle. "First of all, you don't need to wave it around like an Olympic medal. Second of all, that one's *not* from Santa."

"God I *hope* not!" comes the sincere retort. "Because that would imply he was watching us last night, and frankly the thought of Kris Kringle getting his jingles from a down-the-chimney peeping porn fest is really, seriously creepy."

Pepper is both mortified and full of giggles; she bats at Tony's hand as he tries to retrieve the lube. "That's *IT.* No more candy canes for you if you know what's good for you, Mr. Stark!"

"I know what's good for me; this bottle right here is an excellent start for it."

"I *knew* that stuff was a bad idea," Pepper sighs under her breath.

*** *** ***

Pepper herds Tony as she always does, making him shower and dress before allowing him anywhere near the presents. Tony is amused at her clearly organized agenda, and goes along with it, curious to see how things unfold in the 'Christmas according to Pepper' plan.

Cheery holiday tunes play in the background, and when they both wander into the living room, clean and fed, Tony begins to snoop around the tree, rooting around happily. "Hey! I think this side is all yours."

"Mine?" Pepper murmurs, sipping more coffee. "I suppose. I behaved myself this year. Mostly."

Tony shoots her a deliberately skeptical look. "Suuuure you did, Miss Up-against-the-Window."

"Hearsay. No photographic evidence," Pepper assures him. "Pick a present already."

He does, pulling a large box in garish reindeer paper over to the sofa. Pepper grins as Tony studies the outside of it for a moment, his engineer's brain clearly trying to figure out the contents from weight and size. "Using your X-ray vision?"

"I could go get the Suit helmet—" he murmurs, brightening for a moment, but Pepper smacks his arm and he sighs. "Or not."

"Just open it."

Under the wrapping, Tony finds a new microwave oven, complete with remote. He blinks, vastly amused. "Is this some sort of comment about my workshop cooking skills?"

"Or lack thereof," Pepper nods. "I think it's time you donated your old Peeps slaughterhouse to charity, Tony."

He sighs. "I guess so. A good serial killer always cleans up the crime scene."

"Tony," Pepper rolls her eyes, "There are stalactites in your old one. Stalactites made of mustard, Jell-o and God only knows what else. I'm afraid of inadvertently re-animating the bologna in your sandwiches."

He grins.

They both open the present from Aunt Ruby, since it's addressed to the pair of them; out come knit pullover sweaters. Pepper's is mossy green with pretty seed pearls on it, and Tony's is red, with a little gold threaded along the cables. He stares at it a moment, silent.

"You don't like it?" Pepper asks gently. "I *did* give her the right size, and might have hinted about the colors--"

"No, no it's not that. It's really nice," Tony murmurs and adds, "I'm just a little blown away, that's all. Your aunt . . . she makes stuff for me. I don't get handmade, homemade things very often, you know? Takes some . . . getting used to."

Pepper nods, feeling a welling of love for the man. Rich as he is monetarily, Tony Stark has been a pauper in the emotional sense for a long time, and it's good to see him happy. He pulls on the sweater and smoothes it down, pleased with the fit. "Too bad I'll only get to wear it about a month out of the year out here."

"I'll pack it when you go to Aspen, or Anchorage or Oslo," Pepper assures him. "You'll be the cutest billionaire there."

"Aren't I always?" he simpers. "So now it's your turn." He bounds away and comes back with an elaborately wrapped box, thrusting it out to her and settling in on the sofa to watch. Pepper looks down at the expensive paper and intricate ten-layer bow in gossamer ribbon.

"This looks . . ."

"Exciting?"

"Dangerous," Pepper murmurs, and begins to peel open one corner. Slowly she opens the box, and pulls back the silvery tissue paper, bracing herself. Pepper reaches in and draws out . . .

. . A negligee.

It's more than that, though, it's a gauzy, smoke-colored gown of transparent silk that would showcase rather than cover; the sort of sheer lingerie a Vargas girl would coquettishly wear. Pepper blushes, half in embarrassment, and half in delight, because not only is the gown is stunningly beautiful, but also because Tony is looking at her with *that* look of his—the haunted, slightly fearful loving gaze that bares his heart to her.

Pepper holds the negligee up and the morning sun shines right through it, barely making a shadow on the stone floor. "Oh *Tony,*" she murmurs, letting her pleasure soak through his name.

"Yes," he murmurs, voice slow and thick, "I want you to say my name *just* like that when you model it for me."

"I'll . . . keep that in mind," Pepper assures him, and after a last pleased sigh, carefully folds up the lovely lingerie, repacking it into the pretty box. "Thank you . . . sweetheart."

Tony looks at her solemnly. "An actual term of endearment, too. Best Christmas ever so far."

Pepper's forehead wrinkles a bit as she frowns. "I've called you that before . . . haven't I?"

"Nope," he tells her. "You've always called me 'Mr. Stark,' or 'Tony' for as long as we've known each other."

"Hmmmm," Pepper nod thoughtfully. "Well I've *thought* it a lot."

"Really," Tony arches an eyebrow at her. "*Thought* it. Thought it and never let it just . . . slip out. Never a faux pas in public, or a hot little whisper in the dark?"

Now it's Pepper's turn to arch an eyebrow, but the curve of her smile makes her expression a beautiful thing, and she rises up. "Wait here. I have a present I want you to open."

She makes her way to the tree, moving surely, and picks up a package, bringing it back to Tony, who takes it from her. He studies the shape and shakes it. "Something smaller than the box itself in here."

"Camouflage," Pepper admits. "You're a snoop and I didn't want you to have any clues. This one's . . . important."

Tony nods, and pulls off the snowman paper, crumpling it and tossing it down. Rrrrrrr pounces on one of the balls, batting it across the stone floor, then dashing after it in mighty huntress fashion.

"Thanks," Tony calls after her. "I sleep better at night, knowing that if the Alien Paper Wads ever invade, you're on the job, Rrrrrrr."

Pepper clears her throat impatiently, and Tony turns back to the package in his hands. He pulls open the box, and reveals a photo album. Puzzled, Tony looks at Pepper, and then down again.

It's a standard album; square, brown faux leather, padded, and in embossed in gold lettering in the bottom right corner it says _Doctor Handsome and Nurse Snuggles._

Tony blinks. He flips open the album and there are pictures in it: a press conference shot of him up at the podium at Stark Industries; a house camera still of him working in the garage, tinkering with the Roadster; another of him at some charity event.

The next page has pictures of Pepper. A portrait shot from the public relations office of SI; classy but impersonal. Another house camera picture of her in the living room working on her laptop; and a photo of her walking slightly behind Tony to the limo.

The rest of the pages are blank, and Tony looks up at Pepper, confused. She's pink, but her earnest expression is tinged with embarrassment and love as she softly speaks. "It's for us. To . . . make some memories, Tony. Because we need those. We need to collect them and keep them safe. I want pictures of Paradiso and Rrrrrr and you in your silly disguises and . . . everything, Tony. The things that are *us* right here, right now."

For a moment they don't speak, and Tony is blinking hard, his fingers gripping the album tightly. Then, in a quick, almost desperate way he drops it aside and reaches for Pepper, pulling her into his lap and enfolding her into a hug. The familiarity of the gesture makes his voice a little shaky as he whispers into her hair. "If you tell Platypus I cried, I'll deny it to my dying breath, Snuggles."

Pepper laughs and wipes her own cheeks. "I love you so much, Tony. I really do, and yes, I have for a long, long time."

"Making *me* one lucky bastard," Tony sighs. "Yes, pictures, lots and lots of pictures, Snuggles. We could start with a few of you in that negligee."

"Nice try; no. You can be the official photographer, but I retain rights as the editor of the album," Pepper smiles.

"Second album," Tony counters, his smile moving to a bright-eyed and relentlessly seductive one. "Snuggles After Dark. Ah yes, a nice little pillow book with lots and lots of skin. I've always wanted to do some nicely artistic upskirt shots of you."

"Don't make me dose all your candy canes with saltpeter, Tony."

He laughs and hugs her tighter, lost in the bliss of the moment, feeling more love around and over and between them than ever before. After another moment, Tony gently untangles himself from Pepper, holds up a finger, indicating she should wait, and goes to the presents.

Tony pulls out a small package and brings it to her; it's a flat dark blue velvet jeweler's box, the size of her palm, and she shoots him a questioning look, but he merely gestures back to the box.

Pepper opens it slowly, and draws in a breath at the strand of lustrous pearls resting on the satin lining.

Tony clears his throat. "Those belonged to my mother. She wore them to the hospital when I was born, and my dad used to joke that it was because she wanted to make a good impression on me."

"Tony! I can't . . . I can't take these!" Pepper protests, face flushed. He reaches down and picks up the strand from the box, moving to drape it around Pepper's throat and fasten the clasp under her ponytail.

"Yes, you can, and you should. Not for me, Virginia Potts, but because my mother would want you—the woman I love—to have them. Got that, Miss Potts?"

Pepper blinks hard, holding his gaze a moment, then launches herself at Tony, kissing him senseless.


	14. Chapter 14

She moves between the long deep tables, breathing in the rich smell of the tomato vines, and their sharp green perfume of them takes her back to sun-warmed summers; to the slow and sweet days that stretched endlessly in that mellow delight known only to the young just out of school.

Scent is ever the relentless cue of memories, Pepper knows.

She smiles and lightly touches several orange-red globes that aren't quite ready yet, and adds the few that are to her basket, loving the heft of them in her palm. _Good food_, Pepper thinks. _Raised slowly to be eaten with gusto. _

A rush of thankfulness hits her, and she blinks, suddenly more grateful to Tony than she's ever been before.

_He's changed. He's really and truly changed_, she thinks in a daze. _And he's mine._

This is almost more than Pepper can take in; this profound and wonderful turn of fate. The cautious side of her soul begins to question, but Pepper tightens her lips and pushes those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the joy of here and now.

At her feet, Rrrrrrr rubs against her ankles, inquiring in a purr if there's any tuna that needs disposing of. Pepper smiles and bends down to pet the cat. "Veggies here, not meat. Sorry cat."

Only slightly miffed, Rrrrrrr arches her back up against Pepper's stroking hand and then pads off to investigate a suspicious leaf under one of the tables. Pepper smiles and moves down to where the onions are growing. The long green spikes rise up neatly in rows from the dirt, and she lightly tugs four of them, pulling lovely slim bulbs up and shaking them clean before adding them to the basket.

She hears a hum, and turns. Tony is lounging against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching her, and the tune coming from him is familiar somehow. He keeps humming it as he moves closer, and Pepper breathes in his scent.

_Memories_, she sighs to herself. Motor oil, plastic, the sharp tang of metal and under it, the musk-sweet scent of Tony himself. When he was in Afghanistan, she would sometimes walk into his closet and pick a jacket; sniff the collar and wonder if he would ever return.

She moves to run her nose along the side of his neck, and he lets her, his arms encircling her with gently possessive familiarity. He tips his head, offering up his neck, and Pepper lightly kisses the muscles there, her lips lingering. She feels his humming now, and recognizes the tune.

_The Farmer in the Dell_

Amused, she looks at him, a question in her eyes, and Tony's own smile deepens. "Just thinking of the second verse."

Pepper thinks for a moment, and blushes. Stammering, she replies, "I h-haven't been asked and I haven't said yes, Tony."

"Working on both of those," he assures her. "I figure since it only took me roughly seven years to clue in and wise up, my learning curve is on a pretty steep slope to make up for lost time, and throwing in factors like you being in total _love _with me and me pretty much the same with you . . . it's inevitable."

"Inevitable?" Pepper laughs against his lips.

"Number 23 made it law, practically," Tony purrs. "Once you had your wild and wicked way with me and my randy body parts, that was it. I get to be Mr. Pepper Potts, which will mean we'll have to change all the monograms on everything, and I'll have to get a new driver's license."

"Rrrrright," Pepper laughs.

Rrrrrrr, hearing her name, comes out from under the table and circles around them.

"I have to admit that Potts Industries doesn't have _quite_ the panache that Stark does, but—"

"Enough," Pepper whispers, and her eyes are very bright. "You are still the same handful of headaches you've always been, Tony Stark, and despite that, I love you very much. There is no rush. I'm going to be here today and tomorrow and all the tomorrows after that."

"Promise?" he asks, the question slipping out, aching and soft. Pepper blinks and sees the fear flicker in his big brown eyes; the melancholy there that has never quite been quenched.

She draws herself up, meeting his eyes, her hands pressing gently on the hardness of the arc under his shirt.

"I. promise. Sweetheart."

He blinks, smile widening across his face in a blaze of joy. "Love you. New Year's. Is New Year's too soon? Because we could do Paris, and then just keep jetting west to New York, and Chicago and San Francisco . . . I could give you a ring in every city, you know, and propose in each one . . ."

Tony doesn't get to finish; Pepper kisses him with sweet exasperation, bends to pick up Rrrrrrr, hands her to him, and goes for her vegetable basket.

She smiles, glancing over her shoulder. "You only get to propose _once_ Mr. Stark—up to you when and where."

Tony strokes Rrrrrrr thoughtfully. "Prepare to be swept off your feet then, Miss Potts," he murmurs, and his tone is so certain that Pepper feels a shiver inside.

"You have plans?"

"Big plans," he agrees, and although he's smiling, there's an odd note of earnestness in his voice. "Call my real estate agent. I feel like buying a small South American country and renaming it Starklandia. Going make you a queen, Pepper."

End


End file.
